Unexpected
by Comet360
Summary: Expectations are funny things as the Wizarding world learns when introduced to a Harry that has inherited James' confidence and Lily's charm and a complete disregard to anything that doesn't affect him. Who cares about rocks and stuttering professors when they've got dragons and godfathers who didn't wait thirteen years to break out of prison to play with?
1. First Year

**Unexpected **

* * *

Chapter 1

Harry Potter is not what Dumbledore expected. The first years file into the Great Hall, all fidgeting nervously or hiding behind laughably transparent facades of bravado. He scans them for the tell-tale head of wild black hair and finds it next to a blonde girl who looks slightly green as her eyes flit over the sea of watching students. The boy in question is apparently oblivious to all the attention as he gesticulates wildly, trying to convey some sort of point, emerald eyes fixed earnestly on the distracted girl.

Dumbledore's lips twitch, trying not to smile, when Harry tugs impatiently on the blonde girl's arm to regain her attention. They go on like this, only pausing respectfully to listen to the Sorting Hat's song, until McGonagall calls out, "Perks, Sally-Anne," and Harry nods encouragingly to the girl who is so pale Dumbledore worries she might faint. Instead she musters a sickly looking smile for her new friend and steps forward.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat shouts and then it is Harry's turn.

He is the complete opposite to Sally-Anne as he strides towards the hat with anticipation glinting in his green eyes and confidence ringing in every step. Dumbledore hears Snape growl, "Arrogant. Just like his father," but the old man only smiles, relieved that his fears were unfounded.

Harry's sorting is the longest yet but finally the Hat shouts, "GRYFFINDOR!" and Harry beams hugely, tipping the hat to the roars of approval from the red and gold table. As he makes his way down the hall Dumbledore sees him catch Sally-Anne's eye and wink at the small girl who grins back, looking very much relieved to be surrounded by her new housemates and finally out of the spotlight.

* * *

Harry Potter is exactly what Snape expected. He dices his lacewings with careless ease, chattering on all the while to a stoic Theodore Nott. An arrogant, disrespectful and naturally talented troublemaker, just like his father.

"Silence, Potter," Snape barks with undisguised vitriol.

"Yes Professor," Harry says, rolling his green eyes good-naturedly in a gesture so familiar to Snape that suddenly he can't breathe. "...Professor?" Harry says enquiringly and Snape realises he's been caught staring.

"It's nothing," Snape says harshly.

"Alright," Harry says, giving him an uncertain smile – _Lily's smile_ – before turning back to his potion.

The rest of the lesson passes in a blur. Snape can't keep his eyes away from Harry, though he hides it better now, seeing Lily in the elegant tilt of his wrist as he stirs his potion, his quick mood swings – going from mock outrage to exaggerated sulking to uproarious laughter in seconds – and in the effortless way he draws spans the divide between his own house – _Lily's house_ – and Snape's old one.

It is certainly the most boisterous class the dungeon has seen in years. It is probably also the least amount of points Gryffindor has lost in one of his classes. If they had ever had a class with him before, there is no question that they would have known Snape was not himself. As it was...

"I should have known the twins were lying about Snape being a horrible git after the Sorting Hat," he hears Ronald Weasley complain as the first years leave the classroom. When the last of them are gone Snape shuts the door with a wave of his wand and sits down heavily, looking at his shaking hands with detached fascination. He lets out a slow breath and closes his eyes.

Harry Potter is not what Snape expected.

* * *

The twins are sitting facing one another on the armrests of a squishy chair tucked in the back corner of the common room, furthest away from the fire. Their fiery orange heads are bent together over several rolls of paper and open books which they reference every now and then as they debate enthusiastically in hushed whispers.

"Excuse me," Harry says.

The twins whip around in surprise, hastily shoving their work behind them as they tumble off the armchair and stand side by side before it to shield it from sight. "Harry Potter," one of them says grandly.

"To what do we owe the honour?" the other finishes.

"Er, well, I heard that we're not allowed to use magic during the summer holidays and, um, I was wondering if you two knew a way to get around that?" the first year says somewhat sheepishly.

"Not even been here a week-"

"And already breaking rules?"

"We're so proud!"

"Unfortunately," and here they grimace in unison.

"We don't in fact know-"

"A way to get around that particular rule."

"Oh," Harry says disappointedly. "Do you know anyone that does then? Or anything about how I could find a way to do it?"

"We can't say that's something-"

"We've had a chance to explore just yet-"

"If you do discover anything-"

"We'd be most interested to hear about it though."

Harry shrugs, "Of course. I'm definitely going to give it a crack; it's no trouble to keep you updated."

"Excellent!" they beam.

"Sorry we couldn't be more help-"

"But please don't let that deter you-"

"From the glorious path of the rule-breaker-"

"And feel free to come to us-"

"If you ever need help hexing a Slytherin-"

"Obtaining banned goods at reasonable prices-"

"Or even pranking our prat of a brother – either of them."

"Right," Harry says with a grin. "I'll definitely be taking you up on that."

"Interesting chap, that one," Fred says to his twin as Harry wanders off.

"Not what we imagined the Saviour to be," George says thoughtfully.

"Thought he'd be taller," Fred agrees.

* * *

It starts as an ordinary day. Harry waltzes into the Great Hall in the morning to find Ron staring at the front page of the Daily Prophet and plops down in the seat next to him.

"Morning Ron. What's the news?" he says cheerfully, helping himself to some bacon.

Ron doesn't say anything.

"Ron?" Harry says. The redhead still doesn't respond so Harry turns to ask someone what's up with him only to find the Great Hall nearly empty. He looks up at the clock above the doors and grimaces, "Hey Ron, we've got to go to class. Oi, Ron, did you hear me?" Frowning, he plucks the newspaper from Ron's numb fingers.

In big, bold letters the headline reads: SIRIUS BLACK SPOTTED IN ENGLAND! He flips through the rest of the paper – pausing at an article that reads: BREAK IN AT GRINGOTTS! – and then tosses it onto the table.

"Huh," Harry says. He stands up and grabs a piece of toast, "Hey Ron, you know transfiguration started five minutes ago, right?"

That gets Ron's attention. "Wha—oh crap!"

They run, and make it to the transfiguration classroom within two minutes. Ron bursts through the door first, white-faced and with apologies already spilling from his lips. Harry follows somewhat more decorously, ready to back him up with the impish smile and cheeky excuses that he knows reminds McGonagall of his father, who was apparently a favourite.

But before they can perform this much-refined routine, the stern professor gives Harry an understanding look and says, "Get to your seats, boys. Quickly, now. You've disturbed the class quite enough already."

Harry blinks – that was about the last reaction he was expecting – but Ron tugs on his arm and they hurriedly slink into the closest desks, trying not to draw attention to themselves, while their classmates shamelessly turn around in their seats to stare at Harry with expressions ranging from curiosity to pity.

When McGonagall finally regains control of the class, Harry turns to Ron and hisses, "What was all _that_ about?"

* * *

It's Oliver Wood's first year as Quiddich captain and while he's determined to whip the Gryffindor team into the best shape they can get, he's not expecting anything amazing. Nearly half their players left last year and while he's got faith in his ability as both Keeper and Captain, he knows he's no coach. Still, he'll do his best.

The day of tryouts dawns and Wood is jittery with anticipation. When Angelina informs him there's a first year trying out for the team his is slightly sceptical. When he hears it is Harry Potter he worries that the boy will try to use his status to get a place. When he sees him outfly the competition by miles on an old Comet 220 borrowed from the school broom shed he is ecstatic.

Aside from the seeker, they've got two new chasers – Alicia Spinnet, who was a reserve the previous year, and a second year called Katie Bell. They've got the raw talent, now all they just need the training. And Wood is determined to provide it.

* * *

Hermione is thrilled to find that there is a first year (and in Gryffindor no less!) who spends almost as much time as she does in library. She thinks that perhaps this is her second chance to be friends with Harry Potter who looked rather put off when she informed him on the train that she had read all about him. When she reflects on it she thinks that she would be mildly disturbed to learn someone had read all about her too.

Determined not to botch up this fortuitous opportunity, Hermione decides to observe Harry before approaching him. She learns (by checking the books he leaves behind) that he is studying a combination of ancient runes, Magical Law, enchanting, binding, wards and advanced magical detection. Feeling slightly inadequate in light of his broad and highly ambitious self-study topics, Hermione quickly reads up on everything she can find on all of these subjects.

After a month she reluctantly decides that perhaps she set herself too high a goal and settles for a basic grounding in each of these topics. It takes another month before she can say she has successfully reached this point. Another two weeks is spent dithering over how to approach him. Eventually she decides on—

"Excuse me, I was just translating these runes," and Hermione shoves a book under his nose, "But this one," she stabs her finger at the offending rune, "Has me completely stumped. You wouldn't happen to recognise it would you?"

"Um," Harry says slowly as he looks at her rather uncomprehendingly, "Ancient Runes only starts in third year so you'd be best off trying one of the older students."

"Ah. Right," Hermione says and flees the library, completely mortified.

Later that day Harry will come up to her and say, "Hermione, I'm trying to... uh, that is, I'm working on this _project_ that involves runes but I don't know a single thing about—"

"I'd love to help!"

* * *

Ron isn't surprised by the giant pile of Christmas presents that Harry receives. Harry is friends with _everyone_; Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, even Slytherin (although they seem to be warily polite rather than friendly towards him) and not just the first years, a healthy amount of second years and even a few third years are on good terms with him. Granted, they probably only got him presents because he's the Boy Who Lived but they wouldn't have gone that far without having any relationship with him. So no, Ron is not surprised.

Harry on the other hand wakes up slowly, blinking his eyes several times to clear them of sleep and then yawning contentedly. He stretches and then sits up and Ron sees the exact moment he registers that the presents at the foot of his bed are for _him_ because his jaw drops and his eyes bug and he makes a noise that Ron can't even begin to decipher.

"Merry Christmas Harry," the redhead says dryly, much more coherent than his friend having woken a good half hour earlier.

"I-I got presents!" Harry says sounding stunned. "Would you look at that? I got a whole pile of 'em! Oh, Merry Christmas to you too Ron," he adds belatedly. "Oh. _Oh_. Presents! I didn't get anyone presents!"

"Er, are you alright, Harry? Is this some weird muggle thing?"

Harry laughs, "Not exactly. More of a Dursley thing. I celebrate Christmas by cleaning up after them and cooking special Christmas meals for them... Ah, what am I doing? I'm a terrible friend. Everyone's been so nice and I didn't even _think_ of buying them presents."

"Don't worry about it," Ron says through a mouthful of chocolate frog that he got from one of his brothers, "Just explain; they'll understand." Harry still looks guilty so he says, "Or make sure you get us really awesome birthday presents to make up for it."

* * *

Hagrid knows (all too well) the laws about owning dragons, which is why he doesn't tell anyone when he acquires a dragon egg. It's only bad luck that Harry Potter never knocks when he comes to visit.

"Hagrid!" Harry calls exuberantly as he bounces in the door, "There you are! I haven't seen you around much lately so I thought I'd—is that a dragon egg?"

"Ah," says Hagrid, fiddling nervously with his beard, "That's er..."

"Wicked," Harry breathes, crouching over the fire to get a better look.

"Eh?"

Harry doesn't appear to notice his surprise, "What kind is it?"

"A Norwegian Ridgeback. They're rare, them."

"That is so awesome! When's it going to hatch? Have you fireproofed your house yet? Do you even get to keep it? I thought they were illegal – how'd you get it?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down there Harry. To answer your questions, let's see, I won it las' night in a card game down in the village. It'll hatch in a week or two, I 'spect. I've bin doin' a some readin'," he holds up the book he was looking at when Harry burst in, "Got this outta the library – Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit – it's a bit outta date, o' course, but it's all in here. Keep the egg in the fire, 'cause their mothers breathe on I 'em, see, an' when it hatches, feed it on a bucket o' brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour. I haven't found the proper fireproofin' spells yet, but that's next on me list."

"I'll help!" Harry volunteers immediately. "But you can't possibly keep it here if you don't want anybody finding out – no one else knows do they? It's too suspicious suddenly shutting your house up like this," he bites his lip, "I might be able to cast an illusion on the egg that'll hide it for now but I have no idea what you're going to do once it hatches. How soon would you be able to move him into the Forbidden Forest?"

Hagrid beams at him, not bothering to mention that Harry is the only one that visits him.

* * *

"George, Fred!" Harry calls. "Wait up!"

The twins stop and turn, one of them beaming hugely and the other looking slightly put out.

"Harry!" exclaims the happy twin, "No one ever puts my name first. It sounds excellent; we should make a trend of it!"

"It sounds stupid," Fred disagrees crossly, "Now what do you want?"

"Er, just a spot of advice."

"Need help getting out of the Common Room after curfew without setting off the detection charms?" George says with a grin.

"How did you hear about that?" Harry asks, astonished.

"We have ears everywhere, my good friend," Fred tells him, apparently over his mood.

"Right, I should have known. Well yes, I have had a bit of," Harry clears his throat, "_Difficulty_ with that."

"Not a problem, not a problem at all!"

"There are a few ways to go about it-"

"You can leave through a window-"

"But since you don't own a broomstick that might not be the best idea-"

"What we'd advise are a few simple spells-"

"We'll teach them to you-"

"You'll need to learn to recognise the different detection wards too, so you know which one to use-"

"There are a number of them all around the castle-"

"But fear not-"

"We'll have you ready to sneak all around Hogwarts in no time at all!"

"Thanks guys. I knew I could count on you!"

"But of course!"

"And while we're on the topic of avoiding detection-"

"How goes your little project?"

"Oh that. No, I've put it on hold for now. It's bound to be years before I can pull it off and I've been working on a couple other things lately."

"Anything of interest?"

"Illusions mostly. Let me know if you ever need one; I've become a bit of an expert, especially in anchoring them and recently I've been working on layering – it's awfully useful if you're trying to hide something moving or of a magical nature."

The twins' eyes positively gleam.

* * *

There are a lot of ways Sirius Black has imagined meeting his godson. Stumbling on him slowly backing away from a trio of dog-sized acromantulas deep in the Forbidden Forest in the middle of the night is not one of them.

"What the-? Harry?" Sirius says.

The boy jumps and turns at the sound of his name, which the large spiders take advantage of to launch their attack. Easily blasting them away with a swish of his wand Sirius says, "What are you _doing_ here? Nevermind that, we need to get out of here before some of their friends hear the commotion and decide to join the party."

Twenty minutes later they are in a small, abandoned house at the edge of Hogsmeade that Sirius has requisitioned for the time being.

"Seriously, what were you doing in the Forbidden Forest all alone?" he says, sitting the boy down at the kitchen table and handing him a warm butterbeer. "Don't you know how dangerous that is?"

Harry snorts, "Well, yeah, running into a bunch of acromantulas sort of gave that one away. Thanks for saving me and all that, but who are you?" He raises an eyebrow at the man and makes a point of suspiciously sniffing his butterbeer but ruins the effect by accidentally inhaling some of the foam through his nose and then trying to discretely sneeze to the side.

"Sirius Black, your godfather."

Harry freezes, a disturbingly large and very fake smile suddenly pasted on his face. "Ah ha, look at the time – way, way, _way_ past curfew, I really need to be getting back to school now, got an early morning tomorrow, you know, and _pleasedon'thurtme_!"

Sirius does his best not to laugh his godson huddles in his chair, his arms protectively wrapped around his head. "Before you have a heart attack there are a couple things you should probably know. For one, I never betrayed your parents. I didn't kill anyone either, well actually I did," Harry whimpers and curls tighter in on himself, "But they were all Death Eaters."

Harry peers at him cautiously, "So... ah...?"

* * *

Neville watches Harry whistling a cheery tune as he goes about his morning routine with an unusual bounce in his step.

"What's put you in such a good mood?" he says hesitantly.

"Can you keep a secret?"

Neville nods, "Of course, Harry."

"You've got to swear not to tell anyone – on your honour."

"I won't. Honest."

"Alright." Harry's serious disposition melts away and he beams. "I met my godfather last night."

"But – what, how?"

"I ran into him in the Forbidden Forest. Just like that. Imagine! What are the chances?" And Harry skips out the room, humming cheerily.

Neville hurriedly trots out after him, "You-you snuck out!" he hisses, carefully keeping his voice low enough that no one in the Common Room can hear him. "Into the Forest!"

"You're missing the point, Nev," Harry says as he hops out the portrait hole, "I met my godfather. Me! The boy with no family! Well there's the Dursleys, but they hardly count. And I got real family now! I mean granted he's not by blood but who cares?"

"Wait a second... Your godfather's Sirius Black!"

"Yep!" Harry agrees cheerfully. "He's awesome. He's got this motorbike that he enchanted to fly and he travels all over the world doing bounty hunting and curse breaking and _consulting_ and professional duelling..."

"But he's a Death Eater! He was the Great Traitor of the Light!"

"Oh no," Harry says airily, waving it away with his hand, "That was all this huge misunderstanding. You know the story of how my parents used the Fidelius Charm, right? Well about two years after they went into hiding Sirius was ambushed and barely made it out so they decided to change Secret Keepers 'cause no one holds up under Voldemort's torture and it wasn't the first time he'd nearly been caught. They didn't tell anyone so the new Secret Keeper wouldn't be a target like Sirius but _that_ person was the real traitor."

"Well why didn't he just say so?" Neville says cautiously.

Harry frowns, his good mood wilting away, "He never got a trial and someone must have tampered with his memory because he thought he found me dead with my parents so when he escaped he thought he had nothing left in England and just left. But he came back as soon as he heard about me and now he's trying to track down the real traitor so he can clear his name and then I'll be able to live with him instead of the Dursleys."

"Wow," Neville says solemnly.

* * *

Harry Potter is not what Mrs. Norris expected. She catches him sneaking out of the castle smuggling what smells like alcohol and raw meat, and hisses in triumph. She's been catching hints of him out after curfew for weeks now but this is the first time she's seen him in person.

Harry huffs in surprise when he sees her. It's not a reaction she's unused to.

"Well hello there pretty lady," he says.

Mrs. Norris blinks. That most definitely is a reaction she's unused to.

Harry crouches down and holds out his hand towards her, "You must be Mrs. Norris. I'm Harry Potter but you, lovely girl, can call me Harry."

His voice is friendly and soothing but Mrs. Norris approaches cautiously, wary of a trick.

"May I pat you?" Harry says once Mrs. Norris has sniffed his fingers. She looks at him unblinkingly and Harry says, "Or is that too forward? We've only just met, after all. You must get that a lot with the thick, beautiful coat you have."

Mrs. Norris ducks her head, giving him permission, and he strokes her gently and scratches the sensitive area behind her ears. Before she realises it she is purring from the heavenly sensation. Filch is a devoted follower but his bony fingers are uncomfortable at best.

"There's not a Mr. Norris I should be jealous of, is there?" Harry says, rubbing her belly now. Mrs. Norris mewls and Harry chuckles. "Don't think he's scared me away because nothing could convince me to stay away from such a gorgeous cat but I really do have to go now. I've got another beauty I've got to visit tonight but she's not nearly as lovely as you when it comes to temperament so I can't be late."

He stands up with a regretful sigh, "It was a pleasure Mrs. Norris."

Mrs. Norris meows plaintively, still lying with her stomach bared, hoping he'll go back to his wonderful massage but he is already gone.

* * *

"Tully, my fair elf maiden! How are you today? Not underworked, I hope."

"Oh Master Harry Potter, sir! You is always being too kind to Tully. Tully is feeling very honoured by your attentions! Would you be wanting some treacle tart before afternoon classes Master Potter?" Tully asks, whisking Harry into the kitchens and serving him a generous slice of the aforementioned tart along with a large dollop of cream on the side.

"Just Harry please Tully. And I'm going on a picnic again; could I get the usual if it's not too much trouble?"

"Oh!" Tully says, "Nothing is too much trouble for the Great Wizard Harry Potter. We is having enough food for two grown men ready in a moment, sir!"

Tully gossips cheerfully to him as she works, telling him the latest scandals of the castle from a house elf's perspective and Harry carefully notes which pieces of news he can use against his schoolmates either as blackmail or teasing material. In no time at all she is done and bundling it all up.

"You're the best Tully," Harry says with a charming grin as the house elf hands him a picnic basket brimming with enough food to feed five. "Thanks so much."

Tully looks so grateful she might cry so Harry hastily says his farewells and flees the kitchens – he has no idea how to handle crying from anyone, let alone an overemotional house elf.

Other the overemotional and overly subservientness of the elves which Harry is only just getting used to, the kitchens have been a godsend ever since Fred and George showed him them almost a month ago. Sirius has unequivocally banned him from going into the Forbidden Forest alone – even after he explained he'd done it numerous times before and only a wrong turn had him running into the acromantulas that night – so three nights a week his godfather escorts him to the part of the forest where Hagrid keeps Norbert and they have a midnight picnic and catch up on each others' lives while feeding and playing with the now three month old dragon. Thinking of his godfather still brings a silly grin to Harry's face. He's absolutely overjoyed that he's got real family now – family who cares and who will take him away from the Dursleys.

"Hullo there Ernst, mind letting me through?" Harry says to the portrait of a rather dreary looking man.

Ernst looks at him mournfully and says, "Young people these days. Always in such a rush. You should slow down and take the time to look around you; never know what you might be missing."

"Sure Ernst, I'll do that one of these days alright."

"They all say that, but that day never seems to come around until too late," Ernst says gloomily and swings open to reveal a narrow flight of stairs.

Surprisingly, instead of opening into a corridor near the entrance to the Gryffindor Common Room as it usually does on a Thursday, Harry ends up in a classroom he doesn't recognise that is empty save for a large, ornate mirror.

Glancing at it, Harry double takes when he sees his reflection gesturing wildly at him. Seeing that he has Harry's attention the boy in the mirror holds up a blood-red stone and puts it in his pocket very meaningfully. A sudden weight in his own pocket makes Harry check it only to find the same blood-red stone. Shrugging, he returns it to his pocket. It's not the kind of thing he expects from a mirror but it's far from the strangest thing that's happened to him since entering the wizarding world.

Harry goes back the way he came and complains, "Ernst, mate, I think you've got the passage going the wrong way."

Ernst blinks slowly and says, "Hogwarts' passageways never go the wrong way."

"Right," Harry says, "I'll just go the long way then shall I?"

* * *

Quirrell tears down the wards on the third floor corridor with all the delicacy of a manticore in a china shop. He's not planning on sticking around any longer so subtlety is not an issue. That doesn't mean he doesn't notice he isn't the first to have passed them. Interesting.

The rest of the defences are passed with equal ease until he reaches the Mirror. Damn. Typical Dumbledore. But if there was a way to put the stone in there, surely he can reverse engineer it and avoid having to play the old headmaster's stupid games.

Unfortunately that will take time he doesn't have.

Quirrell taps the Mirror, charming it featherweight, and carries it out with him. Due to its heavy enchantments he doesn't dare cast any more invasive magic than that. The students and teachers alike give him strange looks as he makes his way out of the school but they don't question him seeing as he looks like he knows what he's doing. Fools.

He makes it as far as the Great Hall before the wards ripple and Quirrell knows Dumbledore is back.

Not a moment later the doors to the hall burst open and Dumbledore strides in, the stars on his indigo robes glittering almost as angrily as his eyes.

"Quirinus Quirrell," Dumbledore thunders.

"Albus Dumbledore," Quirrell says neutrally. "This is rather unfortunate."

Then the air around Quirrell _vibrates_ with magic and Dumbledore raises his wand and waves it to no visible effect but the malicious aura that appeared with Quirrell's magic dissipates and Quirrell slumps to the ground. The Mirror falls on top of him, the featherweight charm breaking with its caster's death, and half crushes his body.

Dumbledore doesn't look pleased.

"Mr. Weasley," the old man says to Percy who is sitting at the Gryffindor table looking rather dumbfounded, "Would you please fetch Professor McGonagall for me?"

Percy swallows the mouthful of potato he had been chewing before dinner was interrupted. "O-Of course, Headmaster. At once."

* * *

The end of the year arrives rather abruptly. Harry is half way through a number of projects – none school related – and is rather miffed he has to stop them for the summer. He's not nearly as distraught as Hermione though, who looks as though she might cry (making him fidget nervously and prepare to run) as she closes her books for the last of their study sessions before returning home.

Sirius still hasn't found any leads on who his parents changed their secret keeper to so he has to return to the Dursleys and although his godfather offered to abscond with him illegally, at eleven years old he's not quite ready for life on the run from the law. He's received numerous offers to visit friends over the summer though and has promised to organise it with his relatives as soon as he can speak to them so he's not planning spending much time at Privet Drive anyway.

Gryffindor wins the House Cup, largely due to their victory in the Quiddich Cup and Harry becomes somewhat of a hero in his house along with the rest of the team. Exams pass easily and Harry isn't very concerned by them; he's always been more interested in learning how to do useful things with his magic rather than excelling in class.

Quirrell's reign as Defence teacher ends rather mysteriously with his disappearance after a strange confrontation with the Headmaster including, according to the stories, a large, ornate mirror. All the older years assure him that this is an annual occurrence – the Defence teacher having to leave, not the public confrontation involving a mirror.

* * *

"I'm sorry my friend," Dumbledore says as he sweeps down the hall. "The stone had already been removed from the mirror by the time I arrived. As Voldemort fled in the form of a spirit we may comfort ourselves with the fact that he could not have taken it with him but I am at loss to discern its location. I'm sure it has not left Hogwarts grounds; perhaps once the students have left we will have more success searching—hello there Harry."

Harry blinks and looks up from the windowsill where is lazing in the sun and taking advantage of the last few hours he's able to use magic by practising transfiguration. A teacup becomes a small stone statue becomes a mouse becomes a snuffbox. "Hello sir." His eyes flick curiously to the old man next to Dumbledore, although beside the positively ancient headmaster it isn't really fair to call him old. Harry would place him at about fifty but it was always rather difficult to tell with magical people.

"This is my friend Nicholas Flamel. Nicholas, this is young Harry Potter. Harry, shouldn't you be getting down to the train now? You wouldn't want to miss it and be stuck at Hogwarts for the whole summer now, would you?" he says, blue eyes twinkling merrily.

"Perish the thought!" Harry says, not quite sure if he is being sarcastic or not. "I'll just be off then sir. Have a good holiday!"

As he trots off he thinks that something about the stone and mirror rings a bell but after a moment's reflection fails to recall what exactly sounds so familiar he forgets all about it.


	2. Second Year

Chapter 2

"Hello," Harry says to the house-elf hiding in the bushes, "I'm Harry Potter. What's your name?"

The large, bulbous eyes which are the only things Harry can see of the elf blink and then shift cautiously from side to side before a long finger emerges from the leaves and beckons to him. Harry scratches his head and sighs but sees no other option and awkwardly crawls into the bush. The house-elf which looks fairly young for one of its kind bows low and says, "Harry Potter! Such an honour it is... so long Dobby has wanted to meet you sir..."

"Ah, so you're Dobby?"

"Yes sir. Dobby the house-elf at your service, sir."

"Alright Dobby the house-elf, why are you here? Who sent you?"

Dobby anxiously tugs at his ears, "It's a difficult situation sir... Dobby wonders where to begin."

"How about with why you're here," Harry suggests.

"Dobby has come to warn Harry Potter, even if he does have to shut his ears in the oven door later... Harry Potter must not be going back to Hogwarts."

"Oh. Um, why not?"

The house-elf wrings its hands. "If Harry Potter goes back to Hogwarts, he will be in great danger. There is a plot, Harry Potter sir. A plot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year. Harry Potter must not put himself in peril. He is too important, sir!"

"Do you have anything more, ah, _specific_ perhaps about this plot?"

Dobby grabs the trowel Harry was using to weed the garden and starts hitting himself over the head with it. "Stop. _Stop that_!" Harry hisses. Dobby obeys, wide-eyed at his commanding tone. "Next time if you can't tell me, just says so, alright?" Harry runs a hand through his hair, "Okay. Who sent you?"

Dobby shakes his head, trembling.

"_Why_ were you sent?"

"Dobby has come to protect the great Harry Potter sir. He must stay where he is safe."

"Right. Listen Dobby, thanks for the warning, I really appreciate it..."

Dobby bursts into tears. "Harry Potter thanks Dobby for his help... Dobby has never been thanked by a wizard before!"

"Dobby. Listen. I'd pull out of Hogwarts if I could but I can't do that without my godfather's permission and I haven't heard from him at all since I came back here," Harry adopts a tragic expression, "I know it's not even been two weeks, but I'm worried about him. So if you can find him and give him a letter from me, we'll see about staying out of Hogwarts."

Dobby shuffles his feet and looks guilty.

"Hang on... Are you the reason Hedwig looks like she's been put through a blender every time she comes back with a letter and no other owl can reach me?"

"Harry Potter mustn't be angry with Dobby!" he says, stepping back fearfully and pulling a stack of envelopes from inside the pillowcase he is wearing.

"You little rat bastard!"

Ten minutes later, after a timely intervention by Hedwig, Harry watches with satisfaction as the nasty little thing disappear with a pop, having extracted from it a promise not to interfere with his life on the condition that Harry keep his owl from attacking it.

* * *

Aside from its rocky beginning Harry's summer is not nearly as terrible as he expected it to be. Quite the opposite, really.

Unsurprisingly, the Dursleys are quite happy to get rid of Harry so after two and half weeks of chores with homework squeezed into every spare moment he has (which aren't many) Harry packs up his things and is off to Ireland to visit Seamus Finnegan for a couple days.

From there he moves on to Neville's place and spends several days hiding from Madame Longbottom in the greenhouses with his friend before heading all the way off to India to stay with the Patil family for a week. After that he makes one night stops at Dean Thomas' London apartment, Ernie MacMillan's townhouse just off Diagon Alley, Stephan Cornfoot's hut in the middle of the Scottish wilds, Hermione's rather large house in Bristol and Justin Finch-Fletchley's countryside home in Verwood before moving to the Weasley's ramshackle house in Ottery St. Catchpole for the rest of the holidays.

It's even more chaotic and fun than he imagined having a family would be. They play Quiddich in the orchard, ducking down to weave through the trees so the other team can't intercept, and play fierce games of Aurors and Robbers using the marksman spell which causes small spots of colour to appear on whatever you fire at and then disappear after half an hour. Several nights he, Ron and the twins take Mr. Weasley's flying car out for a joyride and they are just starting to master barrel rolls when Mrs. Weasley catches them and they are assigned de-gnoming the garden as punishment. Ron and the twins don't seem very happy about it but Harry has a marvellous time and it turns into a game to make their gnomes collide mid-flight.

Shopping for school supplies is equally a highlight. They organise with as many of their friends as possible to go on the same day and run wild through the back-to-school crowds, daring each other to go further and further into Knockturn Alley until they run into Hagrid and have to pretend they got lost. They also meet their new Defence teacher, Gilderoy Lockhart, and promptly make plans to terrorise him out of Hogwarts before his year is up.

* * *

Luna is entranced by Harry Potter. His eyes are green, green, green all the way to her soul and for a breathless minute they suck her in until she can't see anything else. Then he blinks and she is released.

"Er, are you okay?" he says.

She feels like a marionette with its strings suddenly cut. "Oh yes," she says calmly, looking at those brilliant, piercing shards of emerald. "I imagine it was just a wrackspurt. Daddy's researching ways to ward them off but he hasn't even found a way to detect them yet so it's still all very far off."

"Oh. Right," he says, looking unsure. "Um, I'd best be looking for my friends then. Will you be alright with your trunk or would you like a hand?"

Luna blinks slowly. "No. No, I expect I'll be fine."

One fleeting smile – still unsure – and he is gone. _Green_, Luna thinks, _green like death and destruction and burning, burning passion_. And she hurts somewhere deep in her heart as though his eyes cut all the way to her core and she is only just noticing now.

Luna looks down at her trunk and wonders how she will get it onto the train. She is a small girl, even for her eleven years, and yet she thinks that it will be easier to struggle with her heavy, awkward baggage up onto the train and down the narrow corridor filled with chattering students, all the while looking for a compartment (for all that she doesn't know anyone) rather than to have spent one more second looking into those bottle-green eyes that seemed to glint with secrets and danger and things she doesn't want to understand.

So when she puts the Sorting Hat on she can only think, _anything but Gryffindor_, because she is not brave enough to look into those green, green, green eyes every day of the next six years.

* * *

Harry has always known that life sucks and you just have to make the best of the crap that gets thrown at you and enjoy the good things while they last. It's the very first lesson he learnt so he really should have realised things were going far too well after more than a year of only the good things. Somehow the crap still takes him by surprise when life dumps a whole bucketful on his head.

"Harry," Ron says in a voice that does not bode well.

"Morning Ron. What's up?" Harry says, not noticing his friend's deathly pale or unusually serious demeanour.

"It's Sirius Black. He was spotted-"

Harry chokes on his pumpkin juice. "_What_? I thought they decided that last year was just a false alarm?"

"Well, yeah, but this time it was definitely him."

"Did they get him?"

"No, and it gets worse. He was in Dufftown – that's not far from here – and they think he's after you. The Ministry is bringing in dementors to guard the school."

"Fuck! I've got to get to the Owlery. I need to, uh, give Hedwig her medicine. She's still not quite healed from that crazy house-elf I told you about."

"Language, Harry," Hermione says from across the table. "And you'll be late to Defence if you go now, I'm sure Hedwig will be fine if you wait until lunch."

"Nah, I don't want to risk it. Tell Lockhart... I was so excited about meeting him in person I forgot my stuff and had to go back to the dorms to get it," Harry says with a grin. "He should be fine with that."

* * *

Harry stomps through the castle, seething. He is on his way to the Gryffindor Common Room since Lockhart interrupted his visit to Hagrid, making it impossible for them to go see Norbert who is now reportedly larger than a horse.

"_I WANT TO RIP... TEAR... KILL..."_

"Me too, mate," Harry growls under his breath before realising what he heard. He stops and blinks, his anger momentarily forgotten. "What the heck was that?" Then he shakes his head and mutters to himself, "Walls voicing my thoughts? Hogwarts just keeps getting stranger."

"_SSO HUNGRY... SSO LONG SINCE I ATE..."_

"Hey, that's not what I was thinking," Harry says indignantly.

"_TIME TO KILL..."_

"Alright! That's enough! Whoever's there, come out now!"

"_WHO'S THERE...? WHO SPEAKSS?"_

"I do! Come out and show yourself already!" Harry demands. He doesn't hear anything else after that and is just about to dismiss it and keep going when an absolutely massive snake slithers around the corner.

"Ho-ly shit..."

"_WHAT DO YOU WANT, SSSPEAKER?"_

"... _Think like a rock, think like a rock, think like a rock_," Harry chants under his breath, clenching his eyes shut and slowly backing away from the monstrous snake that is several times wider than he is. His back hits a wall and he cringes and cracks open one eye only to find that the snake is still there. "_Think like a rock_."

"_YOU HAVE NO NEED TO FEAR ME, SPEAKER. I SHALL NOT LOOK UPON YOU NOR TASTE YOUR BLOOD."_

"Promise?"

The snake hisses impatiently. _"I AM SSO HUNGRY... IT HAS BEEN SSO LONG SINCE I HAVE VENTURED FROM MY LAIR... SSPEAK, SO THAT I MAY HUNT."_

"Er, what are you doing in the castle then? Shouldn't you be in the forest?"

"_YOU WISH ME TO GO TO THE FOREST?"_

"Yes? I mean, I'm not telling you what to do or anything, but wouldn't you be more comfortable there? And there's way more things to hunt there, if you're so hungry."

"_VERY WELL... I GO..."_

Harry doesn't dare move for a good fifteen minutes and then he bolts all the way to the Gryffindor Common Room.

* * *

"Ah, Professor, are you aware that there's a giant, talking snake prowling around the school?"

McGonagall raises an eyebrow. "Excuse me, Mr. Potter?"

"I ran into it yesterday on the way back to the common room after class," Harry explains apprehensively. "I heard this voice say 'I want to rip, tear, kill' only I thought it was a joke so I said, 'come out!' and what do you know this _massive_ snake comes slithering around the corner. It must have been, like, 60 feet. And then it's going on about how it's so hungry and it wants to hunt so I asked it why it wasn't in the forest and then it agreed to go and left."

"Potter."

"I'm being serious, Professor, I swear!"

McGonagall massages her temples, "I don't have time for your nonsense right now, Mr. Potter."

"But Professor!"

"Enough. Just go."

* * *

When Oliver goes down to the common room he is surprised to find he isn't the first up; every one of his players complained about how early he scheduled their training sessions.

"Morning Ollie!" Harry chirps, hopping to his feet, "Ready to go to training?"

"Morning Harry. Still refusing to go anywhere alone? You know we're not going to we're not going to believe the giant talking snake story just because you keep stringing out the charade, right?"

Harry grins nervously, "Ah ha, yeah, I've stopped trying to sell that story... I just, uh, wanted to talk to you about brooms. See I was thinking, Slytherin might have those swanky, new 2001s but they're racing brooms, and in Quiddich handling and braking are just as important as speed which is fine for everyone else, but I'm still using a school broom which made me think – is there any reason I can't redo the charm work on the Comet I use?"

"Apart from the fact that you're a second year and the enchantments on a broom are notoriously complex?"

"Well it'd just be a tune up, really. It's not like I'm making a broom from scratch. Anyway, I mostly wanted to know if that was allowed and if you knew how?"

Wood scratches his head. "I know a bit. Enough to get you started. You'd want to go to Flitwick for any major work though to make sure you weren't mucking up. Any mistakes can be potentially lethal so don't play with the charms without knowing exactly what you're doing."

* * *

Cedric Diggory is down at the Quiddich pitch to get in some extra training for the upcoming Hufflepuff Ravenclaw match. He's just released the practise snitch and taken off when a flicker of movement at the edge of the grounds catches his attention. It's a student, one of the younger years if his size is anything to go by, and he's heading _into_ the Forbidden Forest.

"Hey!" Cedric yells, but he's too far away to be heard. He starts to fly over and then catches sight of the black wraith gliding towards the kid. "Shit," Cedric swears, accelerating.

The boy notices the cloaked figure and stumbles backwards away from it before swaying unsteadily on his feet and collapsing in a dead faint. Swooping in with more reckless speed than he's used in his life, Cedric ignores the freezing chill and dread that engulfs him and grabs the boy before taking off again, fleeing for the castle like the hounds of hell are on his tail. Which for all he knows, they might be. Cedric's not going to look back to check.

It's awkward trying to fly and hold onto an unconscious boy at the same time but Cedric does his best, not stopping until he's at the doors of the castle. Once there he leaps off his broom, discarding it without a thought, and rushes to the Hospital Wing with the kid hauled over his shoulder.

"Madam Pomphrey!" Cedric puffs, dumping the kid on the closest bed. "Help! He was attacked by a dementor!"

The nurse rushes in and gets to work immediately. "Gobbles!" she calls, summoning a house-elf. "Get me a hot chocolate, with extra chocolate. At once!" Then she jabs her wand at Harry, "_Rennervate_!"

Harry wakes with a gasp. "What happened? Who screamed—"

Madam Pomphrey interrupts by shoving a block of chocolate in his mouth. "Chew," she orders sternly. "You encountered a dementor." She feels his forehead and clicks her tongue. "Clammy," she says disapprovingly, taking his pulse now.

By this time Harry has finished his chocolate and is able to ask, "But why'd I pass out?"

Another block of chocolate is promptly shoved into his mouth and Harry splutters, unable to do anything but chew. "Dementors make you relive your worst memories. Terrible creatures. The effect they have on people like you..." she peers into his eyes and then sits back and sighs. "You'll be fine. Eat the rest of your chocolate and drink this," she says, handing him a mug of hot chocolate that the house-elf must have dropped off, "And you're free to go."

"People like me? Why are they worse for the devilishly handsome and incredibly talented? " Harry says.

Madam Pomphrey looks disapproving but Cedric can't hide his snort of amusement. "People who have horrible experiences to recall," she corrects sternly. "Now I expect you to finish all of that and don't overexert yourself in the next few days."

Once Madam Pomphrey has returned to her office Cedric says, "Before the dementor got to you, you were going into the Forbidden Forest. Why?"

Harry takes a large gulp of his hot chocolate and then says, "I was... looking for Hagrid. I often visit him for tea but he wasn't there..."

"So you thought you'd search the entire Forbidden Forest for him? It's out of bounds for a reason."

Harry looks appropriately chastised. "It was a stupid idea," he agrees. "I won't be doing it again. So you were the one that got me up here?"

"Yeah. I was down by the Quiddich pitch. You're lucky I happened to spot you at all."

"Thank you," Harry says seriously. "Um... what's your name?" he adds somewhat lamely. Cedric laughs and Harry reddens. "I couldn't think of a way to slip it into the conversation naturally," he says defensively.

"I'm Cedric Diggory. No need to introduce yourself. Harry Potter, right?"

Harry winks, "I can outdo you on that one. Cedric Diggory, fourth year Hufflepuff, seeker on the house team for the past two years and reserve the year before. Top of your year in transfiguration and good at all your other subjects too. Dated Patricia Stimpson most of last year but broke up with her in late April." Cedric gapes and Harry laughs. "One of my friends is an admirer."

* * *

"I hate dementors," Harry says with a shiver.

"Have some chocolate," Hermione says absentmindedly, pushing a box of chocolate frogs in his direction without looking up from the book she is leafing through.

"Found anything on how to deal with them?"

"There's something called the 'Patronus' charm which is the only preventative I've come across. Chocolate and rest is the closest thing there is to a cure... Other than that? Nothing."

"I'm going to visit Flitwick. Want to come with?"

"Harry," Hermione says gently, "It's a fifth year charm. The dementors aren't allowed on school grounds and we're not allowed off so it won't be a problem again anyway."

"Is that a 'no'?"

Hemione huffs, "Well if you're not interested in dementors anymore I'm going to go back to runes. Feel free to join me when you're done."

Harry grins. "Will do. See you later, Hermione."

* * *

"Mind if I sit here?"

Ginny looks up and blushes bright red at the sight of Harry Potter smiling at her. "O-Of course not!" she squeaks.

"So how are you liking Hogwarts?"

"Great!" she says, injecting as much enthusiasm into her voice as possible.

"Yeah? What's your favourite class?"

Ginny wishes she could think of something interesting to say; she doesn't want Harry to think she's boring but her brain is blanking out on her. "Charms, I think."

Harry grins and Ginny feels faint. "Charms is one of my favourites too; Flitwick's brilliant isn't he? And how are your dorm mates, you making lots of friends?"

"Er, yeah, they're all really nice," Ginny says, trying not to let her uncertainty show. It's not a lie but she's always feeling left out because all of them are either muggle-raised or aware enough of the muggle world to know about the incomprehensible games, contraptions, customs and celebrities they're constantly referencing.

"It must be weird to suddenly be living with girls after growing up surrounded by all your brothers," Harry says.

"Mm, it is," Ginny agrees, fervently wishing she had more to contribute to the conversation.

"Are you homesick for it at all? Merlin knows I would be, coming from a place as great as yours."

"A bit," Ginny admits, "Sometimes. I mean – I love Hogwarts and all but it can be a bit..."

"Overwhelming?"

Ginny thinks of the strange blackouts she's been having. "Yeah," she agrees weakly.

"Well if you ever need someone to talk to, I'm always around and I know your brothers have been worried about you too." Harry says, "Or if you need to find somewhere quiet just ask Fred and George – they know all the best places. I swear it saved my life when all the constant company was driving me up the wall last year."

"Thanks," Ginny says with an only slightly tremulous smile. She's already got someone to confide in but a quite place to do so undisturbed would be nice.

* * *

"Twins!" Harry says. "I'm in need of your genius!"

"What can we do for you, Harrykins?" says one of the identical redheads, slinging an arm around him.

"Say the word and it shall happen," agrees the other twin, accosting him from the other side.

"I need a way to get past the dementors."

"And why would you need that?"

"Just where is ickle Harry sneaking out to?"

"Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies?" Harry tries.

"Aw, come on Harrykins, there're no secrets between troublemakers, right?"

"We always let you know what we're doing!"

Harry sighs. "Fine. I'm sneaking into the Forbidden Forest to visit a female dragon named Norbert."

The twins pout. "Well you did warn us, I suppose."

"Still, you're turning into quite the liar this year, ickle Harrykins."

"As your mentors in all things involving chaos and subterfuge-"

"We feel it our duty to offer some much needed advice-"

"Your lies need to be believable-"

"So enough with the talking snakes and the dragons!"

"Stick with something simple-"

"Something plausible-"

"And we'll go from there."

"Now. Try again."

"I want to go down to The Three Broomsticks to try some of Madam Rosmerta's famous butterbeer?"

"Don't sound so unsure-"

"Confidence is the keep to a successful lie. Again."

"I want to go down to The Three Broomsticks to try some of Madam Rosmerta's famous butterbeer," Harry said easily with a touch of impatience. Contrary to what the twins thought he was actually an excellent liar – a requisite for surviving life at the Dursley's – only he never bothers to use those skills outside Privet Drive. It feels too much like he is consigning his new friends to the same category as his relatives.

"Excellent!" They beam.

"Now as for the dementor problem-"

"There are a number of secret passageways you can use-"

"If you're not busy, we can show you them right now."

* * *

Harry leaves the Great Hall with Sally-Anne after the Halloween feast. They're getting close to hallway where the Hufflepuffs split away when the crowd in front of them stops, blocking their way.

"What's going on?" Sally-Anne says.

"I don't know. Let's try and get closer."

Luckily they are both quite small for their age and are able to squeeze through the students ahead of them to see what the commotion is all about.

A statue of Gilderoy Lockhart is standing in the middle of the corridor with a look of almost comical horror on its face and on the wall behind him is painted in foot high letters:

The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, beware.

"Enemies of the Heir, beware. You'll be next, mudbloods!" crows a blonde second year boy with a pinched face whose name Harry can't remember.

"Mudblood?" Harry says to Sally-Anne.

She shrugs, equally confused. "No idea."

Harry squints, "Isn't he the one that's always spouting nonsense about how great he is?"

"Yeah. Draco Malfoy."

"Eh, whatever. Why's everyone still crowding around? It's just a prank, and not a particularly amusing one at that. I mean, that's not _really_ Lockhart is it?"

Sally-Anne looks unsure. "He wasn't at the feast..."

Harry groans, "Don't tell me you're obsessed with him too!" She blushes pink. "You _are_! Sally-Anne! At least Diggory is actually cool! Lockhart is like... eugh. I don't even have words for it."

* * *

Harry is working on a transfiguration essay in the library with Kevin Entwhistle, Stephan Cornfoot and Su Li when Padma Patil rushes in.

"Guys! Guys, have you heard?"

"Heard what?" Harry asks. "Padma, are you okay? You like kind of pale."

"Colin Creevey was petrified!"

"Petrified?" Stephan echoes, "Like Lockhart?"

"I don't know. Parvati told me that's what Katie Bell heard when she found him and the teachers aren't saying anything. She said that Katie said that Dumbledore said it took powerful dark magic so it couldn't be a student."

"Merlin," Kevin breathes, looking pale.

"Well it's nearly been a month," Su says practically, "I'm just surprised nothing's happened earlier."

"Insensitive, much?" Padma snaps.

"You're the one gossiping about it and spreading rumours around," Su says.

"Guys, enough. You'll get us kicked out if you don't keep your voices down," Harry says. "Do you know what's going to happen now?" he asks Padma. "I mean, surely they'll do something about it now that they know it wasn't just a prank gone wrong."

"Malfoy says they're going to fire Dumbledore but no one really knows anything yet. There's a special announcement at dinner. We'll probably find out then."

* * *

_Harry,_

_I don't want you coming to visit me anymore what with something prowling around the castle and attacking students and teachers alike, not to mention Sirius Black on the loose and those dementors hanging around._

_Norbert's nearly as big as my hut now and still growing. She's just starting to fly she's getting restless. She misses you, I think. I want you to promise me that you'll look after her if something happens to me. She may be big but she's not even a year old, remember._

_Hagrid_

"That's weird," Harry mutters.

"What's weird?" says Lavender, who's almost as much of a gossip hound as her best friend Parvati.

"Oh, just my friend's acting kind of strange," Harry says.

"Everyone's acting strange recently. Do you know I swear I saw Ginny Weasley creeping around Hagrid's garden last night after curfew?"

"Are you sure you didn't fall asleep early?" Harry teases.

"Harry Potter!" Lavender gasps in mock indignation.

* * *

"Sirius Black," Harry says softly to the mirror.

"Merry Christmas Harry! Glad to see you got my present! How d'you like it? Me and your dad used to use them when we were stuck in detention to pass the time."

Harry sighs tiredly. "Have you heard what's going on at Hogwarts?"

"The dementors?" Sirius winces, "Sorry about that – I wouldn't wish them on anyone—"

"No," Harry interrupts. "Lockhart, one of our professors, was petrified on Halloween. There was a sign up saying that the Chamber of Secrets was opened. Then four weeks back one of the first years, Colin Creevey, had the same thing happen to him. Now it's Sally-Anne. She was – _is_ – a friend of mine. No one knows what's going on."

"Merlin, Harry, why haven't you said anything?"

"I thought it was just a prank at first, and then I didn't want to worry you. Don't come back Sirius. It's not worth it and there's nothing you can do anyway."

"Harry..."

"No, Sirius. Stay where you are."

"Fine, fine. I won't move a muscle. Enough about me. How are you holding up?"

"I... I don't know. It's... Everyone's scared, even the teachers, and the dementors aren't helping anything. Flitwick's teaching me how to cast a Patronus though. I can get the mist every time now and he says I'm close to making it corporeal but of course that's not with a dementor near."

"A Patronus," Sirius whistles. "That's advanced magic. Even to be able to do that much at your age is really impressive. Hey, how are you at transfiguration? Maybe you should give becoming an animagus a go. Your dad and I started in third year but if you're as good at transfiguration as you are at charms there's no reason you can't start early."

Harry grins faintly, "I'd like that."

"And how's Quiddich going? Gryffindor still unbeaten?"

"C'mon Sirius, have a little faith, _I'm_ seeker – of _course_ we're still unbeaten," Harry says, regaining some of his usual spirit.

"You sound just like your father when you say that. I'm sure I've heard the exact same words from his mouth at least once," Sirius says with a laugh. "I'm glad you're keeping the old team at the top of the ladder though. I can't believe Gryffindor hadn't won the cup in seven years before you came along. McGonagall must be so relieved."

"It does come in handy when I don't get to class on time or give in a dodgy essay," Harry agrees with an impish grin. "You should've seen the Slytherins' faces when I grabbed the Snitch from under Malfoy's nose though. He was on the new Nimbus 2001 and I'm still borrowing an old Comet from the school. It was priceless." He droops slightly, "But Quiddich has been cancelled now. We're not allowed to go anywhere along. The teachers escort us to and from class and McGonagall ferries us to breakfast every morning and then back to the common room after dinner again. I swear, if it wasn't for Fred and George and my Dad's invisibility cloak I would've been driven bonkers a long time ago."

"You're sneaking out even though people are being petrified?" Sirius says. "Are you insane? Harry, you should know better than that. It might be irritating to be so restricted but it's for your own safety. I want you to promise me to stop that until they find whatever's been attacking, okay?"

"I've got to go now, Sirius, or someone'll notice I'm gone," Harry says, pointedly not answering. "I'll talk to you later."

"Harry!"

* * *

"Another person's been petrified. Penelope Clearwater - one of the Ravenclaw prefects. And Hagrid's been arrested," Parvati says without preamble, sitting down opposite Neville and Harry.

"What? _Why_?" Harry says.

"For opening the Chamber of Secrets. Apparently he's done it before. That's why he was expelled."

"But Hagrid would _never_ do something like that. What proof have they got?" Harry demands.

Parvati shrugs, "I don't know. But Dumbledore's been suspended too." Harry and Neville can only gape. "They say that Hogwarts is going to be shut down if something else happens."

* * *

"You should not be wandering the forest alone, young one. This is not a safe place at this time, especially for you Harry Potter."

"Oh. Hello. Have we met?" Harry says, even though he's rather sure they haven't; he thinks he'd remember meeting a centaur. Still, it's best to be polite to the big scary horse-man wandering around the Forbidden Forest. Especially when he's carrying a bow and arrows.

"My name is Firenze. Come, I will escort you back to your castle."

"Hello Firenze, nice to meet you. Thanks for your concern and all but I've been out in the forest at night before; it's fine, really."

"There are new dangers lurking in the forest. You should not come here again."

"Sure, sure," Harry says agreeably. "I've just gotta make a quick stop though – I promised Hagrid, see – and then I'll be out of here."

Firenze looks at him carefully with pale sapphire eyes. "I would have preferred the truth, Harry Potter, no matter how unwanted it may be. Very well. If you will stay away from the forest I will go with you when you are here."

Harry smiles sheepishly, "Sorry sir. Won't happen again. But you really don't have to go to the trouble; I'll be fine on my own. Probably, anyway."

The centaur simply looks at him until Harry sighs and heads towards Norbert's part of the forest. Firenze doesn't speak again until they reach the edge of the forest.

"Harry Potter, you are a friend of Hagrid's are you not?"

"Yes."

"I have a message for him, from the denizens of the forest. Tell him that the dragon cannot stay here. The forest is not its natural habitat and this cannot go on much longer."

"Er, I'd love to be able to pass it on, but Hagrid's gone. He was taken away by the Ministry about a week ago."

The centaur's solemn expression grows even more sombre. "That is sad news indeed. Hagrid is a great friend of the centaurs. Nevertheless, that does not change the facts. The dragon must go – soon."

"Right," Harry says. "Duly noted."

* * *

"You alright, Harry?" Ron says.

Harry throws down his quill with an irritated huff, "I've still need another three inches on this stupid essay but I've already said everything I can."

"Stuff schoolwork," the lanky redhead said, "I mean generally. You've been acting weird all year – not that I blame you with Sirius Black on the loose in Scotland and people being petrified left, right and centre. Hey you don't think Black could be the Heir do you? I mean he's from an ancient dark family and as soon as he turns up the Chamber is opened."

"Do they have any leads on him do you know? I heard they haven't seen him since they lost his trail in October."

"Don't worry, mate. I'm sure they'll get him soon. Aurors are the best force equipped for dealing with dark wizards in the entire world. Except Japan maybe but that's only because they have so many dark wizards they all knock each other off."

"Yeah," Harry says unconvincingly.

"Seriously—"

"Harry! There you are!" Hermione interrupts, dumping a tall stack of books on the table between Ron and Harry with a loud thump.

Ron groans. "I almost wish we were in the library so Pince'd kick her out," he mutters.

Hermione gives him a sharp glance but Harry just laughs, "Don't be an ass. And for God's sake—"

"Merlin's sake," Ron corrects.

Harry rolls his eyes, "For Merlin's sake, don't wish you were in library or I'm going to think the world's ending." Then he asks, "What's up Hermione?" before Ron can retort.

"You're still working on that history essay?" Hermione asks, skimming over his work and jotting down a few corrections, "Hurry up and finish. I want to pick your brain on some issues I've been having with enchanting."

"I'm trying, I'm trying. _Merlin_," he says with a pointed look at Ron who grins, "You're demanding sometimes. But seriously, how much can you say about the stupid treaty? Wizards beat goblins, forced them to sign an agreement, the terms were: blah, blah, blah, end of story."

"Harry," Hermione sighs.

"Hey Granger," Ron says suddenly, "You read a lot, right?"

"A fair amount, I suppose," Hermione agrees cautiously.

Harry snorts and promptly covers it with a cough when Hermione looks over at him. Ron takes the opportunity to roll his eyes before she turns back to him. "Right," he agrees with a straight face. "So do you have any idea what causes petrification? I mean, why's it so hard to catch whoever's doing it?"

"It's extremely difficult to perform any transfiguration on a wizard or witch because you have to overcome their innate magic resistance – that is, a person's magic will naturally reject invasive foreign magic. To _permanently_ transfigure a fully grown wizard like Professor Lockhart to stone..." Hermione bites her lip.

"Wait – permanently? Is that what happened?" Ron says, "How'd you know that? The teachers aren't saying a word about him even though they'll happily admit everyone else'll be fine once the mandrakes are grown enough to be used for that potion."

Hermione blushes. "I overheard Madam Pomphrey..."

Harry groans. "Please tell me you weren't sneaking down to the hospital wing to try and visit him."

"Er... Maybe? But you have to promise not to tell anyone. _Both_ of you," she says, glaring at Ron. "They don't want the students to panic because someone died."

"It's just the defence professor," Ron says callously, "It was bound to happen anyway."

"Weasley! He's _dead_," Hermione says and to both boys' horror, they can see tears prickle in her eyes. "This isn't something to joke about!" And she jumps to her feet and rushes up to the girls' dormitory.

"Bollocks," Ron says, looking flummoxed. "Now how are we going to know what to look out for?"

"Ron..." Harry says.

"I'm serious! It's been months and people are still being attacked and they have absolutely no idea who's behind it!" Ron says angrily and Harry notices he's even more pale than normal under his freckles.

* * *

"E-expecto patronum," Harry says determinedly, but he can't hold onto the thought of riding on his broom with the encroaching chill of the dementors and the faint screams of his mother echoing in his head. Unsurprisingly a faint white mist is all that he can produce.

"Harry! What are you _doing_? Run!"

Harry complies, trotting back to Hogwarts grounds where a terrified looking Neville is waiting. "Ah ha... Hey Neville," Harry says weakly. "Fancy seeing you here. What brings you outside on such a cold day?"

"I was helping Professor Sprout in the greenhouses," Neville says, "Under escort like we're all _supposed_ to be if we're not in the Great Hall or the common room. What about you?"

"Well... Remember how I told you I was learning the Patronus charm? I mastered it, but only away from dementors which isn't very useful so..."

"Don't you _realise_ how bad for you those things are?" Neville says anxiously.

"Sure. I brought chocolate," Harry says, pulling a bar from his pocket and taking a bite to prove his point, "And I always go to the kitchens for hot chocolate after. Want to come?"

"Harry! You don't go hanging around dementors just because you want to learn a spell!" Neville says, trotting along beside his oblivious friend. "And how can you go wandering around the castle unsupervised when there's some sort of monster on the loose? Do you have a death wish?"

"There's too many things running around Hogwarts for me to even know what to be scared of anymore, Nev," Harry says tiredly. "Do you know I even forgot about that giant snake that nearly ate me until two weeks ago?"

"That's no reason to expose yourself to dementors," Neville insists, "Not to mention you're practically painting a target on yourself for Slytherin's Heir by walking around alone. He's already probably after you more than even muggleborns because you defeated You-Know-Who and he was a parseltongue like Slytherin."

"I don't think I really defeated him," Harry says doubtfully, "That implies some sort of epic battle or something I think. And what's a parseltongue?"

"Someone who can speak to snakes."

Harry and Neville stop at the same time and look at each other. "You don't think...?" Harry says hesitantly.

Neville's brow knits worriedly. "We can't know without testing it on a snake. Um, you probably shouldn't tell anyone. It's really rare and, ah, sort of associated with dark wizards..."

"Right," Harry says slowly, "I guess it's a good thing you're the only one that believes me, huh?"

* * *

"Harry."

"Hey Ginny," Harry says. "How are you?"

"Come with me."

"I'm good too, thanks for asking," Harry grumbles, chasing after the girl when she ignores him and walks off. "Hey! I was serious! Even Ron's noticed you've been acting strange. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Where are we going anyway? And why aren't you in the common room?"

"I've got something to show you."

"What?"

"You'll see."

"How'd you even get out of the common room, let alone find me?"

"My brothers helped me."

"And just what's so important that you had to sneak out and drag me off to see?"

"This," Ginny says.

"A girl's bathroom? I don't get it."

Ginny goes in and Harry glances nervously down the hallway before following her. "Damn it Ginny, what's going on?"

"Myrtle," Ginny says commandingly in an oddly even voice that is nothing like how she normally talks. The ghost of a teenage girl floats through the door of one of the toilet stalls, looking at Ginny cautiously. "This comes under our agreement. You will say nothing."

Harry is starting to get unnerved at this point but he refuses to take a step back when Ginny turns to him. She looks like she is struggling as she raises her wand and says, "_Stupefy_."

The world goes black.

* * *

Molly is crying. Arthur tries to comfort her but he is just as distraught. Ginny, their youngest, their only daughter, has been taken into the Chamber of Secrets.

There is a knock at the door and she almost doesn't want McGonagall to answer it in case it is someone confirming her baby's death. Then the door opens and—

"Ginny!" Molly cries, running to her little girl, Arthur close behind. They sweep her into a tight embrace, laughing and crying. Molly looks up. Harry is standing in the doorway looking pale and shaken, his robes are covered with slime and blood and he carries a gleaming sword in one hand and a ragged book in the other. "You saved her," Molly breathes, reaching out to pull him into a hug. "Thank you. Thank you so much. How did you do it?"

"I think we'd all like to know that," McGonagall says weakly.

Molly lets Harry go. The boy looks to the phoenix who came in with them, then he looks at the sword in his hand, then over to Dumbledore who is standing by the mantelpiece. He opens his mouth and closes it again. He goes to McGonagall's desk and drops the book he is carrying on it before quickly taking several steps back. "The book. Voldemort used it to possess Ginny... There was a snake. It was the same one I saw earlier," he says reproachfully to McGonagall who looks stricken. "A basilisk, he called it. It's dead now. And the magic on the book is broken, at least I think." He looks like wants to say more but can't find the words. "I... I need to go."

* * *

Harry runs. He runs through the castle, barely paying attention to where he is going and before he knows it he is outside under the starry sky. As he reaches the edge of Hogwarts' grounds, he can feel the chill of the dementors approaching but he pulls out his wand and says, "Expecto Patronum," and a silvery stag bursts out from the end of his wand and clears the way for him. He keeps running, heedless of the dangers of the Forbidden Forest but before long he is out of the forest and nearing the edge of Hogsmeade. There is a house here that he has only been to once before but his feet carry him to it unerringly.

He bursts through the door, waking Sirius who was sleeping on the couch.

"Harry!" he says. "What happened?"

"Please take me away Sirius," Harry says.

Sirius looks at his godson, taking in his wild appearance with the blood-stained sword in one hand and wand in the other. "Okay Harry," he says and wraps the trembling boy in a comforting hug.

* * *

_I'm kind of in two minds about third year. Should I go back to light hearted like the first chapter or start getting more serious in anticipation of Voldemort's return?_

_Also, just a warning - I have exams next week and then I'm on holiday and without computer access (although I'll still be able to check emails) for three weeks so don't expect another chapter for at least a month._


	3. Third Year

Third Year

* * *

"Sirius Black!" Harry whispers urgently into the mirror. His own reflection stares back at him. "Sirius Black! Why does he never answer the bloody mirror when it's important?" Harry asks the ceiling.

The ceiling doesn't respond, but Sirius does. "I am answering the mirror," his godfather says, sounding amused.

"Sirius! There you are. Finally!" Harry hisses, trying to keep his voice down. He's hiding in the bathroom on the Hogwarts express and since he doesn't know how to cast a silencing charm yet anyone could be outside listening in.

"What's so important that you couldn't tell me twenty minutes ago when I saw you off to school?"

"I found that guy you thought was most likely to be the traitor! Remus bloody Lupin is sitting in a compartment on the train! Hermione even thinks he's going to be the Defence professor this year!" Harry says.

"Whoa, Harry. Calm down, okay?"

"Calm down? _Calm down_? Sirius, this is the guy you've been looking for since first year! You could clear your name! I could move out of the Dursleys'!"

Sirius pouts, "Sometimes I think you only like me for the chance to get away from your relatives."

"Sirius!"

"Okay, okay." He sobers up. "Are you sure it's him?"

Harry relaxes. "Pretty sure. I mean his trunk says 'R. J. Lupin' and he looks pale and exhausted like it's a full moon tonight, which it is. He's sleeping so it's kind of hard to get a good look at his face and it's been twelve years but it kind of looks like him."

"Well there's no point in making a move until we've scoped out the situation. Sit tight for now, Harry, but be on your guard and don't ever go anywhere alone with him."

Harry nods seriously. "Will do."

* * *

McGonagall waits for the returning students – and one green-eyed student in particular – by the Entrance Hall. It's been seven months since Harry Potter disappeared without a trace and not a word has been heard of him since. They hadn't even been able to mount an official search because when Dumbledore had sent her to his relatives' house to look for him, that horrible aunt of his had opened the door and said—

"_Oh. It's one of you people. I suppose you're looking for the boy?"_

"_Yes. Harry—"_

"_Here," the blonde woman says, shoving a few pieces of paper at her, "These should take care of everything. Don't come back."_

And the door had been slammed in her face. Unfortunately, the woman had been correct. Harry Potter had been officially withdrawn from Hogwarts for the year and since they were only a school any more than that was—

"_None of your ruddy business," the fat man yells, sending spit flying into her face._

The door had been slammed in her face that time too and any ideas of getting more information from the Dursleys had quickly been quashed. Magical methods – because a few pesky laws about tracking charms weren't enough to deter them from looking out for a student, especially Harry Potter – had been equally fruitless. McGonagall hadn't known whether to be worried or comforted by the fact that the anti-tracking wards placed on him were thorough enough to impress Dumbledore.

The relief that had swept through her when the headmaster had strode into her office shortly before eleven that morning to inform her—

"_The anti-tracking wards have been removed from Mr. Potter's person and I have been able to estimate his location to be somewhere within the area of London. Considering the time, I would suspect Platform nine and three-quarters."_

— was profound.

So now she waits, anxious again because what if Dumbledore had made a mistake? But no, of course he hadn't. There's the wild head of black hair in the middle of a gaggle of second years coming up now.

"Mr. Potter," McGonagall calls, and if her voice is slightly higher than normal, no one says anything.

"Just for you, Professor, it's Harry" the boy says, sending her a grin and a wink. "But don't tell Tully or she'll be jealous."

_More like his father every year_, McGonagall thinks fondly but she only lets the barest hint of a smile onto her face. "A word in my office if you would, Harry." He nods with a grin and claps his friends on the shoulders goodbye before following her up the marble staircase and down a corridor.

Once in her office, McGonagall motions for Harry to sit and takes her place behind her desk. "You missed a great deal of work last year, Harry," she says. "Professor Flitwick has expressed his belief that you will be able to join his third year class without much difficulty as you were already quite advanced for your age, but for the rest of your subjects you will be given a test to determine what level you are at before deciding how best to proceed."

"Okay. When will I take this test?" Harry asks, not sounding concerned in the least.

"First thing tomorrow morning. That way if you are able to rejoin your year mates you won't have missed anything other than the standard introductory classes."

"Cool. Is that all?"

"There is also the matter of your electives. Provided, of course, that you do not have too much extra work you are able to choose two from this list," she says, pulling a piece of parchment from her desk and sliding it towards him. "Have you given any thought to what you might want to take?"

"Care of Magical Creatures," Harry says immediately. "And... Ancient Runes, maybe?"

* * *

"H-Hi Harry," Ginny says nervously, clutching her books to her chest.

"Hey Ginny, what's going on?"

"I... I just wanted to say thank you for saving me last year," Ginny says in a somewhat rehearsed sounding rush. Then she smiles shyly at him and adds, "That was really brave of you."

"Oh," Harry says. He scratches his head, embarrassed. "You don't have to thank me. I had no idea what I was doing. I was frightened out of my mind."

"But you came after me anyway, so thanks."

"Actually, you kidnapped me," Harry says with a grin. "I just woke up in that room with you know, _him_, and then he called out the snake when I didn't want to chat and Fawkes and the Sorting Hat joined the party and... yeah. It sort of all just happened before I could even blink."

Ginny looks mortified, "I kidnapped you?"

"Well, not you. _He_ did." She doesn't look convinced. "Really," Harry says firmly, starting to regret that he shared that titbit. "It had nothing to do with you so don't worry about it."

"I _kidnapped_ you?"

"You were possessed. By Voldemort. You know that nothing he did using your body was your fault, right?"

"But I wrote in the diary," Ginny says tearfully in a small voice. "Dad always said not to trust something that could think for itself if I couldn't see where its brain was."

Faced with tears, Harry's first instinct is to flee but in this case he feels responsible for her. So he steels himself and says with cheery candour, "Probably good advice, but the wizarding world is full of things like that! Just look at the Sorting Hat! And the bazillion portraits around the place! You made a mistake, sure, but you were tricked. And this is _Voldemort _we're talking about. Do you really think you could avoid a trap set by _him_?"

Ginny smiles. It's small and tremulous and doubtful, but it's still a smile.

"Exactly. I've got to get to my exam now but I'll see you 'round, yeah?"

"Yeah," Ginny says breathlessly, smiling for real now.

"Take care of yourself, Ginny," Harry says over his shoulder as he heads off. "And go talk to your brothers. They're worried about you."

* * *

"Well?" Hermione demands.

"Hey Hermione. How are you? Me? I'm good too. Nice tan you have by the way – did you go on vacation?"

The bushy-haired girl sniffs. "Oh you want to talk now do you?" she says. "I didn't think that was your thing after you disappeared without a word and didn't send a single owl in _seven months_. And every time I tried to send a letter to see if you were even alive, the owl would hop around in circles like it was confounded before refusing to deliver! I thought you were dead!"

"Hermione," Harry pleads.

"I don't want to hear it," she says sharply. "Not unless you're finally going to explain."

"I told you; I _can't_-"

"Then I don't want to hear it. The exam?"

Harry sighs. He guiltily misses the days when she was so desperate for friends that she'd never question him even when he was clearly researching – with her help – legally dubious topics. Sure, she was annoyingly eager to please but now she's bossy and self-righteous now and she'd rather compete with him in academics than help with his projects.

"I aced Transfiguration and Defence," Harry says, a faintly smug grin beginning to show. "McGonagall said I easily could've skipped a year in both and maybe even two. I'm not though. Potions was average – I'm having remedial lessons with Snape twice a week. Astronomy, History and Herbology I just have a certain amount of work to catch up on by the end of the year – I'll have to take both second and third year exams which won't be fun but it's manageable."

"Electives?"

"Care of Magical Creatures and Ancient Runes."

"Well we haven't done anything yet except in Potions. You can talk to Professor Snape about what you missed in your remedial lessons." And with that she flounces off.

* * *

"Hagrid?" Harry calls, knocking and then opening the door without waiting for an answer.

"Hello there Harry," Hagrid says, a wide smile breaking out over his face. "Come in, come in. How've yeh been?"

"Great," Harry says automatically. He pauses, looking uncomfortable and then blurts out, "Sorry we had to take Norbert away. I never got a chance to say it when we were here since things were a bit tense at the time." Without meeting the half-giant's eyes he adds, "I know how much she meant to you."

Hagrid claps him on the shoulder, making him stagger with the force of it. "That's alright, Harry. It had to be done an' there's no one I'd trust more than you to make sure she went to a good place."

"Yeah. Thanks," Harry says. "Uh, I brought you some pictures of her and Sven promised to send more as she grows. I know it's not nearly the same but..."

"Thanks, Harry," Hagrid says as he takes the offered photos. To Harry's alarm he starts to look rather teary as he leafs through them. "Yeh really are a good lad-"

"Say, Hagrid," Harry interrupts quickly, "What were those creatures you've got outside? I don't think I've ever seen anything like them."

"Oh, the Hippogriffs, yeh mean? Beau'iful, aren't they? Got 'em in for yer firs' lesson," he says proudly. "If yeh wan' I can introduce yeh to them now."

"Yes please!" Harry says eagerly.

* * *

"Just spit it out, Nev," Harry advises, taking a break from the mature Mandrakes Neville is teaching him how to harvest.

Neville gives him a confused look and carefully checks that all the Mandrakes they are working with are all potted before taking his earmuffs off. "What?"

"You've been sneaking glances at me all afternoon. Now either you fancy me or you have something to say," Harry says, borrowing a phrase Sirius takes far too much delight in using on him.

Neville splutters. "I don't fancy boys!"

"So what do you want to say?"

"It's just..." Neville bites his lip and hunches his shoulders self-consciously. "Are you okay?"

Harry blinks. "Uh, yes. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, I was thinking."

Harry bites back a dozen retorts that he's sure will only make Neville retreat into his shell.

"Last year," Neville continues, "You wouldn't have just left for any reason, right? Especially without taking any of your stuff or even telling anyone. And the Chamber was closed at the exact same time you disappeared so I thought something probably happened and you were involved with it, or something... It was a stupid thought," he says quickly. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"No, you're right," Harry says without looking at Neville. "Spot on actually. Voldemort possessed... someone—"

"Ginny," Neville breathes.

"You can't tell anyone," Harry says sharply. "Swear it."

"I swear," Neville says. "You can tell me anything, Harry. I can keep a secret."

Neville's chubby face is set and Harry knows he is one of the boy's only friends anyway. "Right. Well anyway, Voldemort kidnapped me and took me to the Chamber of Secrets and tried to kill me. You know that snake I saw? It was his – a basilisk – and he set it on me but Fawkes came and we managed to beat the snake and destroy the thing he was using to possess Ginny. It was only pure dumb luck that I got out alive and with Ginny to boot. I... I freaked out and ran away. Sirius snuck me out of England and made sure no one could find us so I could have a break and get it back together."

Neville looks awkward like he desperately wants to say something but doesn't know what. Harry doesn't know what to say either; he's never been one for spilling his guts.

"I'm fine now though," Harry says, ruffling his hair uncomfortably. "Travelling with Sirius was probably the most fun I've had in my entire life," he adds with much more enthusiasm.

"Where'd you go?" Neville asks timidly.

"_Everywhere_," Harry says. "France, Italy, Greece, Egypt, Iceland, Luxembourg..."

* * *

"You want to duel me?" Cedric repeats, somewhat bemused. "You've barely started third year. Do you even know any spells that can be used in a duel?"

"Why don't we fight and find out?" Harry says challengingly.

Cedric throws him an amused look that clearly says, 'nice try. I don't think so.'

"Aw, come on," Harry begs, "I was tutored by a professional dueller while I was away. Please? Just like once a week for an hour or something to keep in practise. You can skip out whenever you've got too much work to do. Professor McGonagall offered to let me join fifth year Transfiguration this year so I could probably even do some of your homework for you."

"The point of homework is to make sure we master what we've learnt in class, so you doing it for me doesn't really help, not to mention Transfiguration is my best subject. Are you really that good at it though?"

"Hufflepuffs," Harry sighs in exasperation. "You would say that. Anyway, Transfiguration is my best subject, along with defence. I've just started human transfiguration. I'm not very good at it yet though."

Cedric whistles. "That's amazing. Alright. I'll give it a go but if you're not as good as you claim it won't be a regular thing. I just don't have enough time between O.W.L.s, Quidditch and prefect duties for tutoring."

"No stress, 'Puff-man," Harry says with an impish grin, "I'll be the one tutoring you so you're good enough to be any fun sparring with."

"Gryffindors. You would say that," Cedric says with a wry smile. "Fine. How's Saturday at eleven? We can use one of the spare Defence classrooms on the second floor."

"Sounds like a plan. I'll see you there 'Puff-man."

"Great. Later then 'Dor-man."

Harry gapes at his retreating back. "Doorman? Was I just insulted by a Hufflepuff?"

* * *

"Please, take a seat," Dumbledore says.

Harry accepts, sinking into the comfortable chair without stopping his open-mouthed perusal of the Headmasters office. He can't help it; it's just too interesting. Dumbledore clears his throat gently and Harry whips around to look at the old man, sudden realisation of his rudeness colouring his cheeks. "Ah, sorry sir."

"That's quite alright." Dumbledore says genially, "Now, if you are finished...?"

"Yes, sir," Harry says abashedly.

"Excellent." Dumbledore steeples his fingers and peers at him over half moon glasses. How are you settling in this year, Harry?"

"Great, sir."

"You're not having any trouble keeping up in your classes, are you?"

"No, sir."

"Good, good. I expected nothing less from you, of course. All of your teachers have only good things to say about you." He smiles kindly and continues; "Now if you don't mind, I'd like to ask you a few questions about what happened at the end of January earlier this year."

"Alright," Harry says a bit nervously.

"Only if you're comfortable with it, Harry."

"It's fine, sir."

"Very well. But please let me know if you want to stop and we will do so immediately. Now, would you like some tea perhaps?"

"Can we just get to it, professor?" Harry says and then hurriedly adds, "No offence, sir, I'd just rather get in over and done with."

"Of course, Harry. No offence taken. Could you describe what happened, from the very beginning then?"

Harry starts explaining. He tells Dumbledore how Ginny led him to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom and told the ghost not to say anything before stunning him; how he woke up beside an unconscious Ginny in a hall he'd never seen before with no windows and a giant stone head at one end; how there was a boy there – more solid than a ghost, but still transparent – who asked him how he survived Voldemort and why the dark lord was targeting his family in the first place; how he told the boy he didn't know and the boy said he _was_ Voldemort so he'd better answer and when Harry still didn't answer—

(_"CRUCIO!" and painpainpainpain and Harry doesn't even realise he is screaming until he stops and he is shaking in relief or from the after effects of the curse and Voldemort, who looks deceptively harmless as a sixteen year old schoolboy, is watching him calculatingly as Harry begs for mercy and insists he knows nothing_)

(_"He did WHAT?" Sirius snarls, the expression on his face absolutely terrifying_)

(_The Healer storms into the room and grabs Sirius by the collar of his robes and slams him up against the wall and demands, "Why do I need to check a twelve year old for harm from exposure to the worst pain curse known to wizards?"_)

"He made sure I was telling the truth," Harry says, his eye fixed on Fawkes who has fluttered over to perch on his knee and is cooing softly as Harry strokes his feathers. "And since I was he called out his snake – a basilisk, he said – and told it to kill me. Then Fawkes flew in and gouged out its eyes and gave me the Sorting Hat which gave me a sword which I somehow killed the basilisk with, only it got my arm at the same time and it's really poisonous so I was dying but Fawkes saved me and gave me the diary which Voldemort had said he used to possess Ginny and I stabbed it with the fang that had been in my arm and he died and Ginny woke up."

Dumbledore has questions about everything but luckily he seems to sense when Harry doesn't want to answer and doesn't push too hard. When he is finally done clarifying every detail he asks the question Harry has been dreading the most.

"And after you left Professor McGonagall's office, where did you go?"

"Er, I just ran, I wasn't really paying attention to where I went," Harry says, shifting uncomfortably. "Alright, so I might have gone into the Forbidden Forest for a bit but I swear it was an accident..."

"Harry," Dumbledore says seriously, "Where were you for the past seven months?"

"Look, sir," Harry says earnestly, "I'm really sorry I left without telling anyone. I didn't mean to cause any trouble and I got Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon to fill in all the paperwork as soon as I could..."

"Ah, you misunderstand me. I am not concerned about the trouble you may have caused but rather for you yourself, my dear boy. I know you were not with your aunt and uncle nor any of your friends from Hogwarts and you are too young to be living on your own."

"Don't worry; I wasn't alone," Harry says. "You can even ask Mr. Flamel – you guys go way back, right? He said he was going to let you know I was fine but he might have forgotten– he's pretty old."

Dumbledore sighs, "No, he did speak to me. He wouldn't say much however, on your request, I believe, and it is this insistence of secrecy that concerns me – why is it you feel you cannot tell an old man to lay his conscience to rest?"

"Er," Harry says. "Uh, it's... um..."

"If you do not wish to tell me, Harry, you are under no obligation to do so. I do wish you would trust me though."

* * *

"It was weed," Dean says. "I know that smell. I'd swear it on my mother's life; it was weed."

"I know she's batty but she's still a teacher," Ron argues, "And d'you really think Dumbledore would stand for her getting students high?"

"Maybe she's bribing him to look the other way. You know, giving him free 'samples' – he certainly acts like he's baked more often than not," Seamus suggests.

Harry flops down in an armchair across from them. "Just come back from Divination?"

"Yep. It was Lavender's turn to have something horrible to happen to her. I must not've been doing my homework properly 'cause she was the last one I was expecting," Seamus says with a grin, "Usually she targets one of us three – probably wishful thinking – while Parvati and Lav are safe."

Harry laughs. "God-"

"Merlin," Ron corrects automatically.

"Merlin I'm glad I didn't take that class."

"What, so you can do mountains of homework for Ancient Runes instead? I'll take the old bat any day," Ron says.

"Especially if we get to smoke weed," Dean says.

"Which we don't because it's not weed," Ron insists.

"I switched to Arithmancy actually," Harry says. "You know what though, we should raid her stash – if it's not weed she'll tell Dumbledore and if it really is weed she'll freak out and try and find it without letting him know."

"That's... that's brilliant and absolutely mad," Ron says.

"I'm in," Dean says.

"I feel weird being the voice of reason," Seamus says, "But we're talking about stealing from a teacher—"

"Which is why you really should have put up some sort of privacy spell," Fred says, popping up from nowhere.

"I thought we taught you better than this," George chides Harry.

"Now which teacher are we talking about?"

"And what are we stealing?"

Seamus groans and sinks lower into the couch. "If we get caught I'm blaming all of you."

"And we'll cheerfully point our fingers right back," George says.

"Friends don't let friends miss out on their suffering," Fred agrees.

"We're not friends with you!" Seamus protests, "Point your fingers at Harry!"

"I don't think that's how it works anyway," Dean says, "You'd have to ask a Hufflepuff but don't you protect your friends from suffering?"

* * *

"Why did you have to ask _Lavender_ out?" Hermione groans.

"Hermione?" Harry says tentatively. It's the first time she's addressed him about something other than school work since they've been back but he gets the feeling this isn't her forgiving him.

"You heard me," she grouses. "Why Lavender?"

Honestly, he hadn't meant to. He'd just been flirting with her a bit when he'd said that not going to Hogsmeade wouldn't be so bad if she stayed back with him but then she'd asked him if he was asking her out and he couldn't say _no_. Besides, Harry likes the way she's so bold and self-assured that even though her looks are completely ordinary she stands out anyway.

"Er... What have you got against Lavender?" Harry says, pulling himself out of his thoughts.

"Apart from the fact that she's an airhead who loves to gossip? Nothing," Hermione says. "But Professor Trelawney told her at the start of the year that the thing she was hoping for would happen on the 26th of October and then _you _had to go ask her out!"

"Aren't you overreacting a bit?" Harry says. Hermione isn't the most socially aware person but she's never been rude.

"No!" Hermione snaps.

"Okay, okay," Harry says, holding up his hands in surrender. She's been strangely uptight the entire year and he has to wonder if it has anything to do with the rumours of her attending two or three classes at the same time but every time he's tried to enquire she's only gotten more aggravated.

* * *

Halloween morning sees Harry leaving the Kitchens with a picnic basket full of food and the latest castle gossip, courtesy of Tully, which he can use to tease Lavender because she is never able to understand how he knows thing even _she _cannot find out. He goes up the steps from the Great Hall and turns off at the second floor, intending to take a shortcut up to the fifth floor when he hears a voice from behind him say, "Harry?"

He turns around only to see Professor Lupin looking out of his office door, and belatedly realises that the castle is deserted, the majority of its occupants having gone to Hogsmeade. It's just him and the man who may or may not have betrayed his parents to Lord Voldemort.

"What are you doing?" Lupin asks. "Where are all your friends?"

"Most everyone's gone to Hogsmeade but I'm meeting Lavender in the Common Room," Harry says, fidgeting nervously. "I'm late, actually."

"Ah," Lupin says. "Well if you've got time later you should stop by my office; I've just taken a delivery of a Grindylow for our next lesson."

"Sure," Harry says, not wanting to upset the man by refusing outright, "I'll try to make some time. I should go now, though. Lavender'll probably come looking for me if I don't turn up soon."

"Of course," Lupin says, smiling genially. Harry is disturbed by how friendly and harmless it makes him look.

"See you professor," Harry says as he backs away, unwilling to turn his back on the man.

"And Harry," Lupin says just before the boy reaches the corner. Harry pauses, ready to run. "If you ever want to come by to talk, about your parents I mean – I told you I went to school with them – you're more than welcome."

"Yeah," Harry says, swallowing. "Thanks for the offer."

* * *

"Professor Trelawney?" Harry says even though he's certain he has the right person because surely no one else in the castle dresses quite like this. And there he'd been thinking his friends had been exaggerating.

"Ah, Harry Potter," the woman says, pushing her glasses up with a spindly finger. Harry wonders why she bothers since they are so large she could easily see through them even if they were sitting at the very end of her nose. "My Inner Eye informed me to expect a visit from you."

"Excellent," Harry says. "You must know why I'm here then. Shall we go?" A soft noise comes from the corner that could easily be one of the portraits shifting but sounds an awful lot like a snigger.

"Would you mind – ahem, _clarifying_ your request?" Trelawney says, "The Inner Eye isn't used for such mundane details, you see."

"Oh, of course, I should have realised," Harry says. He's sure he hears a snigger from the corner this time but ignores it in favour of continuing, "Well I'm trying to discover my spirit animal, so I brewed Animadverteserum but since Divination is such a difficult subject I was wondering if you could help me with it."

Trelawney has noticeably brightened. "It is always a pleasure to guide a young disciple in the ways of the Seer," she says.

"It's down in the Dungeons," Harry adds helpfully.

"Come along," Trelawney says, sweeping out of the room, "Your answers await."

"Right," Harry says, trotting after her.

"Animadverteserum has an extraordinarily large range of use," Trelawney lectures as they go down the stairs of the North Tower, "So in order to focus its effects, you must use a number of other divining tools. Since you are attempting to discover something about yourself a large number of mirrors would be useful."

"Don't worry," Harry says, thinking of the mirrors he has raided from unused classrooms all over the castle, "I got heaps."

Trelawney nods. "You will also need to draw a number of symbols around the room to guide your eye to the spiritual realm as the untrained eye will naturally gravitate towards physical answers," she says sounding less mystical and more practical with every word. "I myself haven't needed to use such props in years. Besides, I specialise in interpreting the future; it's been a long time since I did something like this... perhaps it would be best to return to my room so I can pick up a few reference books..."

"No!" Harry says quickly, "That, uh, won't be necessary. I've got a whole stack of books down in the Dungeons. There's probably one there with the right symbols."

"You should also have a number of items representing different animals to guide you as you begin; feathers, scales, bone, fur, fangs and the like, something for all the major groups of animals."

"Got that too," Harry says. They're mostly potions ingredients and things he's picked up from the Forbidden Forest, a few he has yet to identify, but they should work.

Setting up takes a while, especially since Trelawney insists on relocating to a sunny, hexagonal room that Harry has never seen before, but finally everything is prepared. With a flick of his wand Harry lights a fire beneath the clay vessel containing the potion which quickly begins to spill heavy smoke into the room. He starts chanting carefully memorised sounds.

Before long the room is filled with billowing smoke and the sunlight that filters through creates shapes that Harry cannot understand though he is certain they mean something. He can feel his thoughts draining from his mind like water through a sieve and soon the only thing left in his head is the chant, which is flowing far more easily than it ever did when he practised.

* * *

"Sirius Black," Harry says into the mirror, not really expecting a reply. His godfather has been out of touch for most of the past month and even when Harry can contact him he is obviously distracted and his appearance speaks of too much stress and too little sleep.

"Harry!" Sirius says and the boy sits up, a grin taking over his face. "How are you, mate?"

"Great! What about you? You look like shite. I thought I told you to get some more sleep."

Sirius winces. "About that... you remember what I told you I've been doing?"

"I would have if you'd told me. Which you didn't," Harry says bluntly, his smile dropping away. Over the summer he got used to Sirius telling him everything no matter who it pissed off and he's not appreciating the man's recent reticence.

"Well I've been getting in touch with old... acquaintances, I suppose you could say. The sort of people who work from Knockturn Alley and don't advertise their services. I caught wind of a few strange rumours when we came back that were significant enough I stayed to chase them up—"

"Hey! You told me you were out of the country!" Harry scowls.

"I didn't want to worry you," Sirius says, brushing off his concern with a shrug. "But that doesn't matter now. Look, I'm going to be completely honest, Harry. Things aren't looking good. I'm about ninety percent sure England's got a new dark lord on the rise. He might fizzle out before the general public even hears of him or he might turn out to be worse than You-Know-Who; it's impossible to say. In either case, I want you to be careful, okay? Dark Lords like to announce their presence with the most attention-grabbing stunts they can think of – this could mean killing the defeater of the last dark lord, or attacking innocent school children or destroying the largest wizarding town in the country."

"I'm not allowed to leave Hogwarts," Harry says, only a bit bitterly, "I doubt any wannabe dark lord is going to get to me here."

Sirius snorts, "And since you're not allowed into the Forbidden Forest, you've never been there. Just promise me you'll be careful."

"Alright, fine, I promise," Harry grumbles, even though he's fighting down a smile. Sirius knows by now that his definition of 'careful' isn't quite the same as the one found in the dictionary.

Sirius loses a bit of the tension in the corners of his eyes and Harry second guesses whether Sirius is aware of what Harry's idea of being careful is, but decides not to clarify. "Thanks Harry."

"You're getting crows eyes," Harry informs him crossly.

Sirius laughs. "How'd your date go?"

"As if I'm going to talk to you about _that_," Harry says. "I know you don't act anything like a parent but you're still the closest I've ever had."

His godfather laughs again but there's an undecipherable emotion in his eyes and Harry remembers his parents are a touchy to the man. "Well can you tell me how your forays into divination are going, at least?" Sirius asks.

"Oh yeah," Harry says, perking up. "I got it first go – I'm a raven." He scrunches up his nose, "Then Professor Trelawney gave me an hour's lecture on how ravens are associated with death and my future is tainted by death and blah, blah, blah... Seriously, she just wouldn't shut up about it."

"Your first try and you already got it? That's really good. It took me about twelve times before I got a clear enough picture to start the actual transfiguration work. Why does your professor know about it though? You do remember becoming an animagus without registering is illegal, don't you?" Sirius says sardonically.

Harry rolls his eyes. "She's the divination professor; she was helping me. But she doesn't know why I was doing it so stop worrying – I had to distract her and figured I'd kill two birds with one stone."

"Why were you distracting her?" Sirius says, looking interested.

"You're such a sucker for breaking rules," Harry says, "I swear that's half the reason you never tried to clear your name – speaking of, aren't you going to do something about Lupin? He keeps trying to invite me for tea and it's really creepy."

Sirius looks uncomfortable. "Yeah," he says unconvincingly, "I've been run off my feet lately but as soon as I get a chance."

"Right," Harry says flatly.

There's an uncomfortable silence and then Sirius says, "So how's Quidditch going?"

* * *

"Potter."

Harry wracks his brain trying to remember the blond Slytherin's name and comes up blank. "What's up?" he asks.

"Mother and Father have asked me to extend an invitation to our Solstice party to you." The boy drops an envelope bearing his name in elegant calligraphy on the desk in front of him. Harry snatches it up before the potions ingredients he is packing up can get on the high quality parchment. "I hope you can make it," he says stiffly and quickly walks back to his own desk.

"You shouldn't go," Theo says, without looking up from scrubbing down his cauldron.

"Why not?" Harry asks.

"You aren't worthy of such an invitation," he says coldly, which is unusual – Theo is never particularly friendly but he is never unfriendly either. "Do you have any idea how many people would happily sacrifice their firstborn for such an honour? It is the most important event of the year – careers and fortunes are made and lost according to what goes on there and you probably haven't even heard of it before."

Harry doesn't know what to say. He doesn't think he's ever heard Theo say so much at once and all the Slytherins are surreptitiously watching them and the blond boy who is just about finished packing up.

"Are you questioning my parents' decision?" the boy demands as he picks up his bag and gestures to two other Slytherin boys who look like the missing link between humans and apes. They quickly get up and flank him on either side.

"Do you think it's _right_ for him to be there?" Theo shoots back.

The boy pauses long enough to prove Theo's point and then says, "I know better than to question things I'm not informed enough make a judgement on. As should you." Then he turns and leaves the classroom.

* * *

"Alas, good sir!" Sir Cadogan says, "Those wily dogs managed to see through my masterful disguise and booted me out of their portraits most unceremoniously!"

"Formidable defences, indeed!" Harry cries. "But that is as we expected. Infiltrating the Potions Master's rooms is not a task for the faint of heart and you've proved yourself worthy of commendation for simply attempting it. However I fear that in order to succeed, a new approach is needed."

"You speak truly, my friend!" the painted knight proclaims, sending a nervous glance in the direction from which he came. "It has been an honour aiding you in your quest and I wish you the best of luck!"

"Thank you, brave knight!" Harry says, "I shall not forget the valiant services you rendered."

"Farewell, my comrade-in-arms! If you ever have need of noble heart and steely sinew, call upon me once again!" And with that he races off.

"Snape must keep pictures of some really vicious brutes to scare Sir Cadogan like that," Harry says to himself. Then he grimaces. "I've got to stop spending time with him if it affects my speech like this."

"Harry? There you are!"

Harry spins around. "Lavender!"

"What _are_ you doing down here? The Hogwarts Express leaves in twenty minutes, you know."

"Just a couple things to take care of before winter break," Harry says vaguely. "How'd you find me, anyway?"

"The twins," Lavender says, waving it away with a dismissive hand. "Anyway, you'll never believe what I just found out!"

"What's that?"

"You know how Dumbledore keeps leaving all the time? I know what he's been doing!"

"What's he been doing?" Harry asks good-humouredly.

"You'll never guess," Lavender says, her eyes sparkling.

Harry is intrigued; it's much more Parvati's style to play around, usually Lavender gets straight to the point. "Enlighten me."

"He's been meeting with Beauxbatons and Durmstrang and their respective ministries – you know how they've been talking about starting up the Triwizard Tournament, right? Well they're thinking of holding it next year!"

"Really?" Harry says excitedly, "How likely is it to actually happen?"

"They've sorted out everything except for one thing," Lavender says. "Dumbledore wants to put an age limit on the contestant – seventeen – can you believe it? Only seventh year and half of sixth would be able to enter! Granted, they're the most likely to be chosen, but still! Anyway, no one else agrees with that, not even our ministry. They're all saying that whoever the cup chooses will be the most competent so there's no point in messing with tradition."

"The cup?" Harry asks.

"I'll tell you on the train," Lavender says, "But we'd better go now unless you want to be stuck at school for Christmas."

* * *

Fifteen minutes into the Malfoys' party Harry finds himself discussing how wizarding England's justice system compares with its European counterparts with a morbidly obese wizard sporting an impressive walrus moustache. It's both educational and far more interesting than what he expected to experience when he came. Then he sees two bulbous eyes watching him from a bush at the edge of the patio and Harry thinks he really is in for a memorable night. The bush shakes as a thin arm extends and vigorously beckons him over.

"Look, it's been really interesting talking to you Mr Slughorn," Harry says, "But I just saw someone I really can't delay talking to."

The man looks over in the direction of Harry's attention and only sees Sophie Roper and Pansy Parkinson sneaking a glass of wine in the shadow between the manor and an elm tree.

"A girl, eh! Well good luck m' boy!" he said.

"Thanks," Harry says, "I'd love to continue our discussion later though, if it's not too much trouble. I really learned a lot."

"Of course, m' boy! Of course!"

Harry nods to him and makes his way through the wizards and witches crowding the patio.

"Harry Potter!" a short man in a lime-green bowler hat says excitedly as Harry tries to step around him.

"Er, excuse me," Harry says distractedly. It is only after he has ducked behind the bush where Dobby is waiting that he realises he just brushed off Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself.

"Harry Potter must be leaving right now," Dobby says anxiously, twisting his ears. "Harry Potter must not be here, oh no, sir-"

"Dobby?" Harry interrupts, knowing from experience that Dobby has a tendency to ramble, "What are you doing here? Are you the Malfoys' house-elf?"

"Yes, sir-"

"Why shouldn't I be here?" Harry says.

"There is a plot, sir, a most terrible plot," Dobby says. "A plot to—" he cuts himself off and starts banging his head against the wall.

Harry is getting extreme feelings of déjà vu. "Hey Dobby, do you remember the last time we spoke how I made a rule that if you can't say something, you just tell me you can't answer?"

Dobby nods, looking up at Harry with huge, watery eyes.

"Well I need you to tell me everything you can about this plot, okay? But if you're not allowed to say – _don't_ try to say it; give me hints or tell me if I guess right."

* * *

Harry and Dobby are sitting on the curb outside number 4 Privet Drive, the latter under an illusion to give him the appearance of a backpack, when Sirius turns up.

"Hey Harry," Sirius says, "Done already? That was quick."

"Yeah," Harry says weakly.

"So how were the Dursleys?" Sirius asks. He sniffs as though just the thought of them is personally offending which almost makes Harry smile – Aunt Petunia acts the exact same way towards him. "I know it's Christmas and all but I still can't believe you actually _wanted_ to visit them."

"About that..."

Sirius reaches for the backpack. "What's in here? Did—"

"Um," Harry says, as the illusion disappears when Sirius comes in contact with it, "Dobby, you'd better redo that. Sirius, meet Dobby. He's, uh, my new house-elf."

"Is there something you'd like to tell me Harry?" Sirius says slowly.

Harry winces. "I went to the Malfoy's Solstice party."

"I take it Dobby was the Malfoys' house-elf then?" Sirius says in a deceptively easy voice. "House-elves aren't exactly common; they're quite the sign of prestige, actually, and despite the way they treat them it would take quite a transgression for a family to dismiss their elf. For a family like the Malfoys, though, such a thing is unheard of as they would simply kill the elf in order to ensure their secrets do not fall into another's hands."

"Mr Malfoy was going to kill me and make it look like an accident but Dobby warned me and I blackmailed him into giving me Dobby," Harry says, not meeting Sirius' eyes.

Sirius digests this. "What I don't understand," he says, "Is why you would even go the Malfoys' in the first place. Didn't I warn you to be careful? I would think that includes not going to gatherings of ex-Death Eaters and their lackeys." Harry's head droops even lower and Sirius sighs. "This isn't a conversation we should be having here. Let's go home."

* * *

"Harry," Lavender says.

Harry looks up and Ron promptly snatches the last piece of treacle tart from in front of him. "Hm?"

"Why have all those Slytherins been sending you dirty looks since you came back from Christmas break?"

Harry turns around. Draco Malfoy is glaring holes in his back. He's not the only one either. "Eh, that's just the way their faces look."

Lavender gives him a look.

"They're jealous of my natural superiority?"

"Ha! You're not even superior to a flubberworm," Lavender huffs.

"But I'm still leagues better than a Slytherin," Harry says.

Dean, Seamus and Ron laugh. Lavender pointedly turns her back to him and beings to whisper with Parvati.

"Ooh, trouble in paradise," Seamus says.

"Why _are_ the Slytherins looking at you like that?" Dean asks.

"Like what?" Harry says.

"Like they wish you were dead," Ron says.

"It wouldn't be the first time," Harry points out.

"The other times were all after Quidditch games," Seamus says. "And this time it's only a few of them."

Dean squints at them, "I can't see any connection between them either. Seriously, what's _with_ that?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Harry says blithely.

* * *

Hogwarts' paintings have varying levels of intelligence. There are some, like the Fat Lady and Sir Cadogan, who are fully sentient while others are more like the Drunk Monks in the Charms corridor who only drink and laugh and sleep, completely unaware of the outside world and unable to communicate even with each other beyond the general sharing of merriness. As such, it takes Harry over an hour of searching to find a painted snake sentient enough to converse with.

"Watch the man who inhabits those territories," Harry whispers to the snake which used to slither around a skull held by a famous Austrian playwright from the seventeenth century. "Memorise the sounds he makes to changes the wall into a door," he instructs, hoping that it understands enough of human concepts from living in a castle to follow his orders.

The snake flicks its tongue at him and says, "I go."

"Oh, and when you see me there don't acknowledge me, okay? That's really important."

The snake slithers off and Harry wonders if the feeling of doom he's getting is a premonition or just the normal reaction he has to everything related to the Potions Master. It was risky enough sending Sir Cadogan to spy on Snape – the knight is the opposite of subtle, but on the other hand he is almost ridiculously loyal and would have never willing given Harry away. With the painted knight's limited intelligence Snape probably could have gotten everything out of him simply by talking circles around him though so perhaps it was better that Sir Cadogan was evicted before any trouble could be started.

It was a desperate move and a foolish one, Harry realises with the benefits of hindsight, but he hadn't thought he had any other options at the time. Not many portraits would help a student try to find a way into a teacher's private stores, especially not the Potions Master's since so many dangerous potions are kept there.

Luckily the snake doesn't have the intelligence to make such distinctions. In fact, Harry is rather unsure of whether it has the intelligence to even comprehend the orders he gave it. At least, as the only parcelmouth in Hogwarts, the snake will not be able to rat him out.

* * *

"Twins," Harry says. "I need you to swear on your honour as troublemakers that you won't tell anyone what I'm about to tell you."

"We solemnly swear," Fred says.

"That no one'll learn your secret from us," George finishes.

"Thanks." Harry takes a deep breath. He's taking quite a risk even if he can't imagine the twins ratting him out. "Okay. Sirius Black – my godfather, you know – is innocent."

The twins' jaws drop in unison and for a moment they can only gape. Then they exchange a glance and their faces change to inscrutable.

"You're sure?" George asks seriously.

"Absolutely sure?" Fred says.

"There's no way this is some sort of trick to get close to you-"

"So he can off you and finish what he started?"

Harry rubs the back of his neck. "Well he saved my life the first time we met and I spent seven months with him over the summer so, yeah, I reckon he's not out to kill me."

They nod. "So why are you telling us?"

"There must be a reason you're spilling the beans now."

"Sirius was framed. He doesn't know who by but Lupin is the most likely candidate."

"It's always the Defence professor," Fred says wisely.

"Always," George agrees, clicking his tongue and shaking his head.

"Well Sirius is getting performance anxiety," Harry says, recalling a phrase the twins used in regards to Wood's tendency to fret and lecture before an important game. "And since I'm in trouble with him at the moment I can't pressure him into doing something about it anymore. So I want to interrogate Lupin and find out once and for all if he's guilty."

"What's the plan?" Fred asks, sniggering a bit.

"I assume you've got an idea, at least," George says, fighting a smile.

Harry looks at them suspiciously. "Right, well you've got to keep quiet about this too but Lupin's a werewolf—"

"What?" the twins say, identical thunderstruck looks on their faces.

"Yeah. So he'll be off around the full moon. It'll be easiest to get him right after, I reckon. I've just about got the stunning spell down so we either get him from behind with that or else use a potion – shouldn't be too hard since he's invited me to his office for tea at any time."

The twins' jaws drop. "A paedophile, Death Eater werewolf?"

"This guy is a nasty piece of work."

"I'm not sure he's a paedophile," Harry says uncomfortably, "He knew my parents – offered to tell me about them."

"Let's go with the stunning spell," George says.

"We don't want to risk him getting you before we knock him out," Fred agrees.

"Alright," Harry says. "Then we'd need to take him somewhere for the interrogation. I've got an invisibility cloak which'll help but that part will need some smoothing over. I know the password to Snape's potion stores so we can get a truth potion from there but apparently they're a bit tricky to use so we'll have to do some research on that front too."

"Excellent," the twins say.

* * *

"So then Patricia spilt pumpkin juice all over her robes at breakfast and she had to wear the ugliest robes ever to Hogsmeade – seriously, you should have seen them..."

Harry tunes out again. Really, Lavender and Parvati are only as interesting as the latest gossip and sometimes there just isn't anything happening that's worth repeating.

"... Are you even listening to me? Harry?"

"Er, yeah, poor Louise," Harry says.

"You don't care at all about what robes Louise wore to Hogsmeade, do you?"

Harry shrugs, "Cedric didn't notice, or if he did he didn't care."

Lavender perks up. "Really? He said that?" she asks.

"Well... he never mentioned anything about what she was wearing. I think he called her pretty."

"Ooh," Lavender says and then she shakes her head. "Sorry. We don't have to talk about this."

"You know, Lav," Harry says. "I think we should break up."

Lavender doesn't look surprised. "Yeah," she says with a sigh, "I suppose you're right. I mean it's been obvious for a while that this isn't working. It's nice being the only girl in our year that has a boyfriend though. Especially since it's you."

Harry rolls his eyes. "Well we're not going to stop being friends so if it really means that much to you we can pretend we didn't break up."

"Really?" Lavender says. "You don't mind?"

"Well it's a bit annoying because Cedric and Ollie and the twins are always teasing me about having a girlfriend but that doesn't really matter."

"Thanks Harry!" Lavender says. Then she hesitates and leans over and kisses him on the cheek.

A loud wolf-whistle makes Lavender blush bright red and run away.

"Nice work Harry!" Fred calls.

"Go for the lips next time!" George says.

Harry groans. He catches Lavender's eye as she goes up the stairs to the girls' dormitories and mouths, "You owe me."

* * *

"I can't believe you've never shown me this before," Harry says, pouring over the map. "Where'd you even get it?"

"Can we take care of the teacher we've kidnapped before talking about this?" Fred says.

"Are you ready to start?" George asks.

"Alright, alright," Harry says. They have Professor Lupin unconscious and bound to a chair in the middle of the room. The twins are side-by-side before him, straddling backwards chairs and Harry is perched on the desk behind them keeping an eye on the Marauders' Map. "Let's give him the veritaserum. Five drops, to be sure."

George administers them and the three share a look.

"Let's wake him up, then," Harry says twirling his wand nervously. "_Rennervate_."

They watch with bated breath as Lupin opens his eyes and blinks several times but otherwise makes no movement.

"What's your name?" George says after a pause.

"Remus John Lupin."

Harry and the twins look at each other. "Is that right?" Fred asks.

"Probably," Harry says. "I know his middle name starts with a 'J'."

"Yes," Lupin says at the same time.

"That's going to get annoying," George says.

"Remember, no open questions," Harry says.

"Do the date of birth," Fred says.

"When were you born?" George asks.

"In the evening on the 10th of March, 1960."

They look at each other and shrug again. "Okay."

"Were you ever Lily and James Potter's Secret Keeper?" Fred says.

"No."

"Do you know who was?"

"Sirius Black."

"Do you know who Lily and James Potter's Secret Keeper was after Sirius Black?"

"No one."

"Huh. Seems he's innocent," Harry says, hopping off the desk. "Where's the antidote?"

"Hang on," Fred says.

"We've got to make sure he's totally clear."

The identical redheads confer for a moment.

"Have you ever deliberately done anything to harm Harry Potter?" Fred asks.

"No."

"Have you ever deliberately done anything to harm Lily and James Potter?"

"No."

"Have you ever deliberately done anything to help You-Know-Who?"

"No."

"Okay," George says.

"We're good."

Harry hits the teacher with a stunner and Fred pours the antidote down his throat.

"So, uh, how do we wake him up without getting attacked or reported before we can explain?"

"I'll just get my house-elf to restrain him," Harry says casually.

"_What_?" the twins say in unison.

"You have a house-elf?"

"How?"

"Since when?"

"Why didn't you tell us?"

"Er, let's take care of the teacher we've kidnapped first," Harry says. "Dobby!"

The house-elf appears with a crack and Harry instructs him not to let Lupin move unless Harry says so while the twins continue to goggle at him.

"Okay," Harry says, "Let's do this. _Rennervate_."

Lupin wakes up much more quickly this time. "Wha-" he starts to say.

"Professor?" Harry interrupts, "I have some pretty big news for you."

* * *

"So Lavender tells me you insulted Trelawney and stormed out of Divination in a huff," Harry says. It's only taken the better part of the year, but he and Hermione are back to being friends again with the understanding that she won't ask him where he spent the summer and he won't ask her how she's managing to be in two places at once.

Hermione looks embarrassed. "Well if you heard the load of tripe she was trying to feed us all the time—"

"Look, I don't know what Trelawney's been saying but Divination is a real branch of magic," Harry interrupts. "It's not only about the future – you can use it to try and find out answers to certain questions or locate objects or spy on people, there's even a way to look into the past which Aurors use on crime scenes. It's difficult magic though, and pretty ambiguous a lot of the time but it's not all made up even if a lot of what Trelawney says is."

"I know," Hermione says, tugging on her hair with frustration, "It's the only reason I didn't walk out after the first week."

"Oh well, it's not for everyone," Harry says, "Like I said, it's really difficult magic and not many people have an aptitude for it. Quitting was probably the best decision for you since if you can't do it there's nothing you can do to change that."

Hermione sends him a fleeting smile. "Thanks Harry."

"Still," Harry says, "It's not like you to go off like that."

Hermione sits down with a heavy sigh. "I know. I've just been really stressed this year and then I missed charms and it was the last straw."

"You know," Harry says, pushing his luck, "Maybe you should drop Ancient Runes too; I know you've already covered everything in the course for this year – it's why I switched out of it – and Merlin knows you could use the extra time."

Hermione snorts mirthlessly and rubs her forehead, looking downcast. "I suppose. I love the discussions we have in class though."

Harry shrugs, "How about Muggle Studies then? All it's teaching you is that wizards know absolutely nothing about muggles."

"I know but there's only five people taking the class and I feel so bad for Professor Burbage. She tries so hard to convince everyone that muggles are equal to wizards."

"You'd think Wood could let up a bit since we've smashed the competition in every game this year," Alicia complains as she, Angelina, the twins and Harry stagger back to the castle after a particularly gruelling Quidditch training. Their captain is still out there, having coerced Katie into staying behind to help him get some extra practise in.

"It's his last year," Angelina points, "And everyone knows a few scouts always come to the final. He just wants to put on the best show he can."

"He doesn't need to prepare _us_ for that," George says.

"A good player can be on a bad team," Fred agrees.

"I don't know how you fifth years do it," Harry says, "I'm barely keeping up with all my work and you've got O.W.L.s to prepare for."

"Don't remind me," Alicia groans. "I swear we could've finished the first four years in a month if they taught us at the same rate as now."

"You shouldn't stress so much," Fred says.

"O.W.L.s aren't the be all and end all," George continues.

"No matter what the teachers might say."

"And you don't _have_ to do any of that work-"

"It's just stuff they _suggest_ doing."

"Now is anyone up for a trip to the kitchens before returning to the tower?" George asks.

"Not me," Angelina says, "I can't wait another minute to take a shower."

"I'd better pass too," Alicia says reluctantly, "Unlike you two I actually want to do well in O.W.L.s."

"I guess it's just us three," Harry says as the girls depart.

"Excellent," George says.

"We've got something we've been meaning to give you."

George pulls the Marauder's Map from his pocket and presents it with a flourish. "It's a wrench, giving it away," he says.

"But we're moving in new directions now," Fred says.

"We're growing up—"

"Maturing—"

"And we can't keep breaking rules and causing mayhem our whole lives—"

Harry snorts in disbelief.

"Besides which, it's rightfully yours as the son of Prongs and apprentice of Padfoot," Fred says.

"Wow. Thanks guys," Harry says taking the Map reverently.

"There's one other thing—" George says. He and Fred are suddenly serious.

"It's about Professor Lupin."

"His reaction, when you told him about Mr Black—"

"We thought it was off at the time but we didn't want to say anything unless we were sure," Fred says.

"What is it?" Harry says warily. He's noticed Lupin acting strangely a few times too but Sirius has been so happy to have his friend back Harry can't bring himself to voice his thoughts.

"I know we've used veritaserum on him and everything seemed okay—"

"But don't trust him."

"He's hiding something, we're sure of it."

"Something bad." They exchange a look. "The expression on his face... We know that look."

"It's not when you make a mistake like thinking your best friend betrayed you to You-Know-Who."

"Everyone was doing that in the war," Fred says dismissively.

Harry nods; he's heard the stories too.

"It's when you fuck up so badly—"

"So irreversibly—"

"That you'd willingly betray your friends to You-Know-Who in order to keep it a secret—"

"Because if it ever came out you'd lose everything anyway."

* * *

"Good work Harry," Cedric says. "If you keep improving at the same rate I don't think I'll be any competition for you next year."

"Don't sell yourself short," Harry says, still puffing. "I've only beaten you twice and the first time I swear only happened because you were injured from the Quidditch match with Slytherin."

"Yet you've been regularly duelling me to a tie for the past few weeks and the only reason you haven't been winning is because I've got years experience on you and I know every trick you've got. When we started it was only your creativity and insane reflexes that made you interesting to duel."

Harry laughs, "And you were being so nice at the time, acting so impressed and telling me I was amazing."

Cedric laughs too. "You were though – for your age, I mean. And look at you now. My duelling tutor calls me a prodigy and here I'm being equalled by someone two years my junior."

"Oh, well," Harry says, rubbing the back of his neck. He's never been good at accepting complements. "So that's it then?"

"Yeah. I've got to really concentrate for O.W.L.s now."

"Good luck," Harry says. "Though as a hardworking Hufflepuff I doubt you'll need it."

Cedric wrestles him into a headlock and rubs his fist into Harry's hair. "Thanks you little brat. I'd say good luck to you for all your exams but as a little genius I doubt you need it."

Harry goes for a kidney jab with his elbow and wriggles his way free. His hair is sticking up in every direction and his face is red from being squeezed out of Cedric's grip. The older boy bursts out laughing. "You suck," Harry says.

* * *

"Okay that's _enough_," Harry says, letting his head thump down onto the table. He's in the Library with Padma, Stephan, Sally-Anne, Kevin, Justin, Ernie and Hermione. "If I study any more my head will explode."

Padma shrugs, "I'm pretty sure I already know all of this stuff anyway."

"I'll walk you back to the common room!" Stephan volunteers eagerly.

"I'm going to keep working," Hermione says.

"Me too," Ernie agrees. "I don't want to fail because I didn't study hard enough."

"We've still got over two months, I don't even understand why we're doing this in the first place," Harry says.

"Can someone go over the cheering charm with me again?" Sally-Anne requests.

"I still can't keep any of the dates in History straight," Justin complains.

"Well I'm _done_," Harry says. He taps his books, switching them with the quill on his bedside table, prompting a jealous look from Kevin.

"How'd you manage to—"

"No, no, no, no. No more academic talk," Harry says, all but bolting out of the Library. He nearly turns towards the Common Room but decides to drop by Sirius' place and see if his godfather is in.

Another switching spell with the quill retrieves his invisibility cloak from his trunk and twenty minutes later he reaches the Three Broomsticks.

"Hey Rosie," Harry says, appearing behind the curvaceous bartender in a quiet moment.

"Harry!"

"Not so loud; you'll get me in trouble" Harry complains. "Anyway, I was wondering if I could use your floo?"

"Of course," Rosemerta says, "But that's the last time if you keep scaring me like that."

Harry grins and winks, "Thanks." He grabs a pinch of floo powder and throws it in the fire, stepping after it with a cry of, "Grimmauld Place!"

He stumbles into the dark, empty kitchen and almost thinks no one is home but then angry voices float down from upstairs. Harry approaches the door softly. He can hear his godfather yelling, "What is _wrong_ with you Moony? Dammit, this isn't like you... Just tell me. We've been best mates for over twenty years...? Don't try that shit with me... You've been acting funny; no – don't deny it. Do you still think I'm guilty...? This is _not_ how you act when you feel guilty. I know what that looks like..."

Harry shuts the door and backs away. Clearly now is not a good time. He'll have to mirror-call his godfather tomorrow though, and talk him out of his funk.

* * *

"Ollie!" Harry calls. The seventh year stops and Harry jogs to catch up to him, "Hey, I heard you got signed to Puddlemere United! Congratulations!"

"The reserve team," Oliver corrects, "Still it'll be so great to work with professionals and hopefully from there I can improve enough to make the actual team."

"Don't be so modest! I hear you're the youngest person they've signed in over twenty years," Harry says. "You'll be out there playing in the League in no time!"

"That's only because usually they wait until after graduation to sign anyone. I don't know how long I'll hold that record though – they were asking questions about you and seemed pretty damn interested."

Harry waved him away, "Boy-who-lived coupled with youngest seeker in ages; of course they're curious. Seriously though Ollie, really good work. You deserve it."

"Thanks, Harry."

"And don't forget me when you make it big time, okay? I want season tickets!"

"You're the Boy-who-lived; I'm sure you can get free season tickets by promising to publicly support any team."

"Hey! I have more dignity than that!" Harry protests. "Although... season tickets are worth a lot..."

Oliver laughs and Harry glares. "Ah, whatever. This is where I leave you."

"You're not coming back to the common room?" Oliver asks.

"Nah I have stuff to do," Harry says. "Hey you know, Ollie, maybe you should lighten up on the training now. You don't want to overwork yourself now that you're a professional athlete."

"Actually, I was thinking we should train more often. I don't want to embarrass myself when I start working with the team, or have them decide I wasn't what they were looking for. Besides I need to get you guys into shape for next year since the team will be changing for the first time in three years."

"I really hope that was a joke, Ollie!" Harry calls as he walks backwards away from the seventh year.

"I never joke about Quidditch!"

"The scary thing is that it's true," Harry mutters to himself as he makes his way up the North Tower.

His smile fades as his thoughts turn to Professor Lupin. No matter what the twins say he can't bring himself to think that the werewolf would ever betray him or Sirius to anyone, let alone Voldemort – if anything he's almost _too_ protective of them. Still, there's definitely something off about him and Harry's not going to risk his godfather (who also happens to be his only chance at getting away from the Dursleys). Hopefully it will only turn out to be something minor. Not too minor though; growing up with his aunt and uncle taught Harry the benefits of having blackmail material to hold over his guardians' heads.

In no time at all Harry has made it to Professor Trelawney's office which looks even less office-like than Dumbledore's; he doubts whether a single piece of paperwork has ever been done here.

"Professor Trelawney," Harry says, pushing those thoughts from his mind, "What can you tell me about divining the past."

* * *

Harry stumbles out of the fireplace at number 12 Grimmauld Place, and nearly falls to the ground before catching himself and staggering into the wall. He's peripherally aware of Sirius jumping to his feet and knocking over the kitchen chair he was sitting on but most of his attention is focused on not giving in to the whirling mosaic of images, emotions and impressions flitting through his head.

"Harry?" Sirius says, "What happened? And..." his nose twitches and his concern turns to suspicion, "Why do you smell like weed?"

_Forget_, a vengeful voice orders. Harry's mind goes blank for a moment with the power of the fragmented memory but then the almost painfully tight grip on his shoulders helps him focus. "Divination ritual," he gasps. There was a reason he was fighting Voldemort, something that kept him strong even when he was so tired of all the bloodshed and constant losses. There was hope. There was hope, God dammit, he was so sure of it. Except Harry hasn't fought in any wars and this is just another effect of the ritual.

Unlike the first time Harry tried his hand at divination, when the knowledge he looked for was simply waiting to be unlocked and revealed itself like a softly opening flower at his prodding, this time it burst out at him in an onslaught of information, desperate to reveal itself. The problem is that it is too much and answer he is looking for is buried beneath the overwhelming visions.

Harry only comes back to the present when Sirius tries to move him. "Sit down," he says, "Let me get you some water."

"No!" Harry shouts. This is important. Sirius has to know. He's not sure if it's him or the divination magic speaking anymore but either way, "Lupin – you have to know-"

"What happened?" Sirius asks, alarmed, "Is he okay?"

"_He's_ fine," Harry snarls, seeing the werewolf standing over his bound and unconscious godfather with his wand pointed wrathfully at the helpless man. "But he- he's not who you think he is. You don't understand. What he _did_-"

"What he did? What did he do? Are you okay?" Sirius asks, checking over the boy.

"No. Not me – you. What he did to you," Harry says. His godfather doesn't understand and he's not sure if has the words to make him get it. "It was... I saw it... I _felt_ it. He forced his way into your mind; ripped through your thoughts. You were – it was just after Azkaban I think. You were... not right... affected. A woman told Lupin where to find you and her, only she'd been dead for weeks. She called him and asked for help."

"Maddie," Sirius says, his brow furrowed, "She wasn't dead but Moony would have thought she was."

"Well Lupin came and you welcomed him but he was so angry." Harry shudders and squeezes his eyes shut. "He tore into your head. It was _brutal_. There was something you fought for but he erased it and made you think you'd lost everything. Then the ghost, no, you said she was alive, right? The woman... she came back and took you away."

"You don't understand-"

Harry and Sirius look up. Remus is standing in the doorway looking stricken.

"You _bastard_," Sirius snarls.

"I thought you were trying to kill him. You'd already broken out once; I had to make sure that if you got away again he'd be safe," Remus pleads. "It was for Harry. You'd have done the same in my place; you know it."

"_Don't_," Sirius says, the single word sounding so threatening that Harry flinches even knowing it's not directed at him. "Just get out of here."

* * *

"Come in, Harry," Dumbledore says just as Harry reaches up to knock.

"Hello sir," Harry says nervously, shuffling into the office. He's not happy about this but Sirius has been firm in his decision and Harry trusts his godfather.

"Make yourself comfortable," Dumbledore invites, gesturing to the squishy armchair across from his desk. "I'm sorry it took so long to organise a meeting. I've been dreadfully busy of late, though that is a poor excuse for neglecting my students."

"Do you know about the dark lord too, sir?" Harry says before he can stop himself.

Dumbledore stills. "How do you know about that?" he says, peering at Harry over his half-moon glasses.

"Er, I've got a lot to tell you, sir, and that only really comes in at the end."

* * *

_I'm not a huge fan of how this turned out. It was harder than expected to write without the structure of canon events to work from, and with things changing so much there wasn't so much assumed knowledge I could leave out. I also got a bit out of the swing of things with over my break, not that it's any excuse. Let me know what you think because I'm floundering a bit here. Was the structure too messy? Did the plot make sense? What worked/didn't work? Could you tell what Remus did to Sirius? It was clear in my head but I think that's only because I'm writing it._

_It also might be a bit (or a lot) unedited because in the end I got frustrated and decided to post before I just deleted the whole thing and started from scratch. Heh. If it's too horrible let me know and I might redo it at a later date._

_Hopefully forth year will turn out better since with the Tournament I'll have a guideline to follow again, but there's still going to be major diversions. Get excited! But not too excited in case I take ages again..._

_P.S. I'm thinking of changing the name and description because they really only refer to the first chapter - a minor lack of foresight on my part - but I'm not sure if that makes it annoying for you guys or if it's worth bothering. Thoughts?_

_Edit: 04/08_

_I rewrote the bit where Harry tells Sirius what Remus did since a lot of people seemed confused by it but I'm not sure if it's any clearer. I wanted it to be a bit confused anyway because Harry doesn't quite know what he's saying or what he saw since divination is pretty ambiguous. Sirius catches on because he has more clues and Remus knows because he was the one that did it._


	4. Interlude: the summer of ninetyfour

Interlude: the summer of ninety-four

"Are you sure you can't leave any earlier?" Aunt Petunia demands.

"It's not as if I want to be here any more than you want me here," Harry says resentfully. When he'd first come back he'd felt a nostalgic fondness for the neat little house and his eccentrically particular relatives whom he hadn't seen in almost two years. It took all of ten minutes for that sentiment to be replaced with profound irritation at Dumbledore, whose idea this was.

"What's the problem then?" Vernon says, "Don't have anywhere else to go? I'm not surprised – no one in their right minds would want to take _you_ in."

"Actually I've got dozens of places I could go," Harry says, his temper snapping. "It's only for your protection that I'm here so if you don't want it I can leave right now."

"What do you mean 'our protection'?" Vernon asks. "Why do we need protecting and isn't there anyone better than you available?"

"You know the guy that tried to kill me when I was a baby? His followers would still take me down if given half a chance and they might go after you to try and get to me," Harry says. "Luckily there are protections on the house but in order for them to work I have to care about Aunt Petunia and spend a certain amount of time with her."

"But..." Uncle Vernon appears to be thinking rather hard. "We were fine for the past two years without you living with us."

"Yeah," Harry says, "And no one wishes things could've stayed the same more than me, but the wizard that tried to kill me is making a comeback so you can take your chances again but the odds are against you and they'll only get worse."

"I thought that wizard, Volmore, or whatever he was called, died when he attacked you," Aunt Petunia says.

"Everyone did," Harry says, "But he's a wizard and apparently he can come back from the dead."

* * *

_Harry,_

_The Triwizard Tournament is confirmed for this year! All the details are under wraps though. _

_I've got enough gossip to fill a foot-long letter – people get up to so much trouble in the holidays! – but since I know it bores you I'll spare you the details. Feel free to ask if there's anything in particular you want to know, though. I suppose I owe you that much._

_Anyway, I hope you're having a good summer even if you refuse to tell me about it._

_Lavender_

There is a knock on the door and Harry hastily shoves the note under his pillow. "Go!" he hisses to the owl waiting on his windowsill. "I've got no return letter."

He yanks open the door, doing his best not to look flustered and is relieved to find it isn't his uncle. "Aunt Petunia?" Harry says. He's sure he washed up after dinner and all the laundry is folded so he doesn't know what she could want.

"You said that Volmore could come back from the dead because he was a wizard."

"Yes," Harry says warily; this is the first time one of his relatives has willingly brought up anything magic-related.

"Your mother..." Petunia says. Her face is still pinched and bitter but Harry thinks there might be hope in her voice underneath the dislike.

Harry is too taken aback to even try to soften the blow. "No," he says, staring at his aunt as though waiting for the punch line.

"I see," Aunt Petunia says, her face closing off again. "So her magic really didn't do her any good in the end."

* * *

"Sirius!" Harry cries and tackles his godfather, starting an impromptu wrestling match on the Dursleys' front lawn. If they happen to fall into a flowerbed and promptly demolish it, it is only coincidence.

"How are you Harry?" Sirius asks, brushing the dirt from his clothes.

"Ready to leave!" Harry says and bounds away to drag his trunk outside. His Aunt and Uncle follow, eyeing both wizards with censure.

"Goodbye, Harry. We'll miss you," Aunt Petunia says stiffly.

"Maybe you could stay a bit longer," Uncle Vernon says trying to keep a wary eye on Sirius while sending Harry a threatening glare.

Sirius raises an eyebrow and Harry stifles a laugh. "Yeah, I'll miss you too," Harry says unconvincingly to his aunt, not even bothering to dignify Uncle Vernon's suggestion with a response. "Anyway, we should be off now. Have a nice summer!"

"What was _that_ about?" Sirius said as they walk away. "You didn't find a way to cast magic without alerting the Ministry, did you?"

Harry laughs, "I told them how the wards work. I think I actually preferred it when we just disliked each other and that was that. But enough about the Dursleys; I don't want to think about them for at least another year. How are we getting home?"

"Apparition," Sirius says, holding out his arm. Harry grimaces and grips it hard. "Got your trunk?"

"And Hedwig," Harry confirms. Then with a sharp crack and the uncomfortable sensation of being stretched and squeezed beyond what should be physically possible they are in the kitchen of number 12 Grimmauld Place.

"So we're spending the summer redoing the place?" Harry says, "Is it okay to move into my room or are we starting at the top?"

"Nah, we're starting with the kitchen," Sirius says. "But you can choose a different room now if you want – I've had Kreacher box up literally everything so you don't have to worry about being attacked by anything anymore. It might be best to stick with the ground floor actually since we'll be taking out a lot of walls. I've put up spells of course, so we won't have to worry about the place coming down on our heads but it's better to be safe than sorry."

"Sure," Harry says distractedly. He's wandered out of the kitchen and is staring around the bare entrance hall and stairway in disbelief. "Merlin, you really weren't kidding when you said everything was gone. How'd you get rid of your mum?"

"I told Kreacher the portrait might be damaged by the renovations if it stayed where it was. Took him the better part of four days but he got it down in the end."

"_Nice_. Hey can we add a few windows soon?" Harry says, raising his wand to cast a _lumos_. "Without any lamps the lighting in this place really sucks and for once I wouldn't mind seeing it a bit better."

"Hold up!" Sirius says and grabs his wrist. "I took down all the wards so now the Ministry can detect any underage magic you do here."

"You- you did _what_?" Harry gapes, looking betrayed.

Sirius shrugs, "Most of the wards were built into the structure of the house so they had to be removed before we could change anything. The only spells left are the ones that'll keep it up while we knock down walls wherever we want. Even the space expansion enchantments are gone."

"But how am I going to help with the renovations if I can't do magic?" Harry says desperately.

"I'll put up a temporary block tomorrow. Today though we need to buy beds and mattresses."

"You got rid of my bed?" Harry gapes, looking even more appalled. "Why would you do that? It was the most comfortable thing I've ever slept in."

"It belonged to a Black," Sirius says.

Harry whimpers. "You have problems."

* * *

"Harry," Sirius says, "We need to talk."

"You're not breaking up with me, are you?" Harry snivels in a falsetto voice. Sirius' lips don't even twitch and Harry knows it must be bad.

"There are some things Dumbledore told me that you should know."

"What could be worse than England's new dark lord turning out to be the second coming of Voldemort?" Harry jokes except faced with Sirius' pained expression it comes out rather more morbid than intended.

"There is a prophecy that names you as 'the one with the power to vanquish the dark lord,'" Sirius says. "It's the reason You-Know-Who targeted your family."

"Oh," Harry says. "Yeah, that's definitely worse."

"On the up-side you're supposed to have a power he knows not," Sirius offers.

"I have a special power? What is it?" Harry asks.

Sirius looks sheepish. "It doesn't actually specify."

"Right."

"So... Want to go get pizza?"

"Would _you_ want to go get pizza if you'd just been told you're the one to kill the worst dark lord England's seen in centuries?"

Sirius rubs his jaw thoughtfully. "Eh. It's just a prophecy. You're better off ignoring them eleven times out of ten; they don't change anything, including the fact that it's dinnertime and I feel like Italian."

"You're absolutely rubbish at reassuring people. You know that, right?"

"I'm serious, Harry."

"Yeah, I've known that for three years now," Harry says wryly, not quite managing a smile.

Sirius ignores the joke. "The only reason I even bothered to tell you was because You-Know-Who has made such a big fuss about it and you should know why he's after you. That doesn't mean it's suddenly your responsibility to defeat him or that you should go try to fight him or anything. Prophecies tend to give you weird ideas like that which only ever make things worse."

"Whatever," Harry says. "Let's go get pizza."

* * *

"Constant _VIGILENCE_!"

Harry lets out a manly yell as he tumbles from his bed, his hand going straight for his wand and firing blindly all over the room as he scrabbles for his glasses.

Moody lets out a great roar of laughter. "Look at you go, boy!" he crows, completely untouched in the hurricane of chaos that has destroyed the room. "You were dead this time but we'll make a survivor of you yet!"

Harry groans and lets his head fall back against the floor. "Couldn't you stick to the basement until we put the wards up?" he says, knowing the ex-auror will be of absolutely no use cleaning up and repairing the damage. He always spouts out some nonsense about motivation to improve but Harry is sure it's only laziness. "That's the reason Sirius shielded it in the first place, you know."

"Great idea," Moody says, as Harry gets to his feet. He gives him a slap on the back that Hagrid would be proud of, "More practise is exactly what you need. We'll go a couple rounds once we've done a few hours on the kitchen."

"Wonderful," Harry mutters sarcastically, wincing in anticipation of pain. Moody's sessions are brutal but he doesn't bother trying to dissuade the scarred man. He's not sure if it's old age, on purpose or actual madness but Moody is always misinterpreting what people say and trying to set him straight only ever makes things worse. "I want to get all the cabinetry done today," he warns as he fixes a hole he blasted in the wall.

"That's the way," Moody says, "Set your goals high. I'd give it three days though if your joinery's still at the same level."

Harry just sighs. More like, if Moody keeps dragging him off and treating him like a punching bag. "So Sirius is gone again?" he asks. "What's it this time?"

"Avery's been spotted around Knockturn. He was one of You-Know-Who's highest ranked lieutenants last time around," Moody says. Like Sirius he's always honest with Harry about what's going on and even though it's another ally against Dumbledore, who thinks they should be more cautious with their information, this never fails to piss Sirius off since Moody's reasoning is that Harry, as the one who's going to kill Voldemort, should know what he's getting into. "He disappeared at the end of the last war and no one's seen him until now. Your godfather's finding out what he's up to."

"How long is he going to be gone this time?" Harry says.

"However long it takes."

Harry rolls his eyes. Typical Moody. "Is anyone else coming over?" Harry asks. Various 'friends' of Dumbledore are always coming through for one reason or another. All too often it's to keep an eye on him when Sirius is off tracking down old Death Eaters or whatever his latest job is.

"Podmore's in the Library with an Unspeakable researching ways Voldemort survived, and Diggle said he'd come over to help out some time before noon."

Which means Harry is going to spend the day redoing everything that Diggle 'helps' with and trying to undo the lethal booby traps that Moody always leaves on whatever he's working on between trying to get as much done as he can before Moody decides he needed 'training'. It might be housework but at least it won't be boring.

* * *

"Here's your order," Mr Donahue says, handing Harry a rectangular package the approximate size and shape of his Charms textbook wrapped in brown paper. In actuality it is two dozen shrunken panes of glass – the new windows for the first three storeys of the Black family house. "You sure you don't want help installing them?"

"It's an ancestral place," Harry explains. No contractor with any sense will take a job on an ancestral home since the paranoid purebloods that usually own them are notorious for having their workers killed after the job is done. In this case security is a moot point since Sirius can't show his face or hand out the ownership papers under his name needed to hire someone anyway.

"So that's why you didn't want them unbreakable or insulated," Mr Donahue says. Enchantments of that type work much longer when tied into certain types of wards – the advanced, layered ones that most people don't bother with but are very common among paranoid purebloods. Or secret societies.

"Yeah. It's a bit of a pain but on the other hand some of the magic is really interesting."

The man squints at him calculatingly. "Have you ever done this sort of work before?"

Harry scratches the back of his head. "Well, no, but experience is the best way learn, right?"

Mr Donahue grunts. "Have you got frames for them?"

Harry nods. "They're ready to go in soon as I get back."

"Come out back. I'll give you a few lessons. This isn't the kind of thing anyone can just pick up and do a good job on the first time they try."

Harry hesitates. Moody probably would've cursed the man now for trying to set up an ambush but Harry thinks he's sincere. Plus he's under about a million spells to hide his identity so unless Mr Donahue is a paedophile, he's probably safe. The clincher is that Dumbledore 'advised' him not to leave the safety of the house – which is stupid because a) all the wards are down b) it's the holidays so Dumbledore has no business telling him what to do and c) what is he, a child?

"Alright," Harry agrees with a nod, following the man behind the counter. "I appreciate it."

Half an hour later the two of them return to the front of the store and Mr Donahue says, "You picked that up a lot faster than I expected. Your windows should be okay for a home job. Nothing a few spells can't compensate for at any rate."

Harry grins. "Thanks for the help."

* * *

"Dung," Harry says dangerously, "Please tell me the Chinese Chomping Cabbage you supplied us with hadn't gone off."

Mundungus looks shifty, "Well you see, Harry, I had-"

Harry sighs. "Save it, Dung. I'm sure Snape will be more than interested in why we failed to brew Skele-Gro after he went to all the trouble of reverse-engineering the process but frankly I don't care."

"You know what?" Dung says, "Maybe we could spin this as an unfortunate accident. You know Old Mad Eye Moody, always slinging around spells with no concern for what he's destroying in the process. We were devastated that the potions we slaved over for hours on end were ruined of course, but what's done is done and there's no undoing now is there? And the best bit is Snape'll never bring it up with Moody. Not since he used to be a Death Eater himself and Moody's the most dangerous thing to anyone with a Mark, renounced or not."

Harry, who by this time has vanished the contents of all twelve cauldrons set up in the room and is now packing up the ingredients they had been using, pauses. "Snape was a Death Eater?" For some reason that's a lot less hard to believe than that the greasy Potions Master would willingly stick out his neck to oppose Voldemort, but if Harry's learned anything over the past weeks it's that all kinds of people you'd never guess at would be willing to do a whole lot to ensure Voldemort doesn't return.

"Sure was. Dumbledore says he turned coat before the end of the war but no one saw any evidence of that and he still should have been tried for past crimes, right? Well that definitely didn't happen. He went straight into the cushy job of teaching Potions at Hogwarts."

"Huh," Harry says. "Still that's not the point. We're supposed to be stockpiling medical supplies for the war – do you want to be the one to tell people that, sorry, we would be able to treat them except you wanted to save money on ingredients and ruined the potions they need?"

"If there even is a war," Mundungus says, giving him a funny look.

"Well, yeah, I suppose Dumbledore might be able to stop him before he really gets anywhere but he's been searching for years and never managed to track him down so I wouldn't count on it."

"But that's exactly my point, see? You-Know-Who died. Everyone knows that and even Dumbledore hasn't been able to find proof otherwise. So there's funny business going on in Knockturn, well there's always funny business going on there. And a few disappearances here and there? People are stupid and the world's a dangerous place. You don't see the aurors getting suspicious."

Harry looks unsure. "The Death Eaters..."

"Are probably having a reunion. 'Course if Dumbledore wants to be safe rather than sorry I see no problem with indulging him but let's face it, Skele-Gro isn't even used very often since it's so easy to mend broken bones."

* * *

"I'm home, honey," Sirius calls loudly.

"Sirius!" Harry exclaims, losing concentration over the numerous spells he is controlling. The three paintbrushes rhythmically streaking up and down the wall clatter to the ground and sandpaper-wrapped blocks scrubbing the floorboards smooth skitter backwards. "Warn a man, wouldn't you?" he reprimands.

"You're not a man yet," Sirius says, "Unless you got some action when I was away?"

Harry rolls his eyes. "Let's go to the kitchen. It's the only room that's completely done and I'll bet you're starving."

"I'll just follow you," Sirius says, "I'm still getting lost in my own house."

"You wouldn't if you were there when we put in the new walls," Harry said. "It was pretty damn convenient you had to rush off the day after we finished knocking down all the old ones."

"I don't like what you're insinuating – hey, this looks really good, Harry," Sirius says as they walk into the kitchen. It's clean and airy and has absolutely nothing in common with the dank place from his childhood.

"You'll have to thank Emmeline. She redesigned the whole place when she saw what I was just going with whatever materials were cheapest. Something to do with males having no sense of aesthetic."

Sirius laughs, "That sounds like old Emmy. Ah, what a great girl. Hates my guts, of course-"

"I don't want to know why!" Harry says quickly and changes the subject. "If you want a seat you'll have to conjure one since we still have no furniture. I don't see why we can't get the kitchen table and chairs out of storage at least. Those things were sturdy. Great for when you have regular guests like Mad Eye."

"They belonged to generations of Blacks," Sirius says absentmindedly, staring at Harry who is sitting cross-legged on the island worktop at one end of the kitchen.

"What?" Harry says self-consciously.

"Aren't you going to make me something to eat?"

"What am I, your housewife? There's food in the pantry. Probably. You can help yourself or call Kreacher."

"But I suck at cooking and Kreacher always tries to poison me."

"You survived ten years on your own. Surely you can at least make a sandwich."

"Let's eat out. How do feel about Indian?"

"About that..." Harry says. "I think you should take a break from Dumbledore's work and take a few real jobs. We're practically broke and the house isn't even half finished not to mention that we need to completely furnish it. I can use my own money of course but the fact is our finances are in a bad way and we can't keep going like this."

Sirius frowns. "Why didn't you tell me this earlier?"

"Because you're barely around," Harry says reproachfully, "And when you are you're always injured or sleep deprived."

"Sorry," Sirius says with a wince, "I know this hasn't exactly been an ideal summer for you so far."

Harry shrugs, "I understand. It's still way better than the Dursleys anyway. You can make it up to me by getting tickets to the Quidditch World Cup though."

"Alright," Sirius says, "I'll let Dumbledore know I'm not available for the rest of the summer. Where do you feel like going?"

Harry grins, "How about France? We only saw the Flamels' village last time and I want to pick up some French to impress the Beauxbatons witches for the Triwizard Tournament."

* * *

_Harry,_

_Are you going to the Quidditch Cup? I'm going with the Patil family and you'd better be there – I met a girl over the summer who won't believe we went out. She's going too and it'd be great if you could put her in her place. Preferably in a humiliating way._

_Lavender_

Harry barely registers the contents of the letter, his eyes glued to the date at the top of it.

"Sirius!" he shouts, dropping the letter on the floor behind him and rushing out to pound on the door of his godfather's room. "Sirius! Wake up!"

Sirius answers the door in his underwear. His hair, normally silky smooth, is as wild as Harry's on a bad day and his eyes are bloodshot. "Wha's a matter?" he slurs tiredly, "Who's dying?"

"The Quidditch Cup is in two days!" Harry says, pretending he can't see the naked woman in his godfather's bed, "We need to get tickets!"

"This couldn't have waited until morning?" Sirius groans. "What are you doing up at," he squints at his watch, "Four AM anyway?"

"I was woken up by a nightmare or something," Harry says disinterestedly, "Then I got a letter from Lavender... I swear a week just disappeared. Wasn't it the seventeenth only yesterday or something?"

"Yeah, time does funny things like that in Amsterdam," Sirius says.

"I wasn't drinking or smoking weed like certain other people! Wasn't this supposed to be a money-making trip?" Harry says.

"And we did make money," Sirius says with exaggerated patience, "Which is why we had to celebrate by coming here but unfortunately, as we just experienced, time moves differently in Amsterdam. Literally. Now let me go back to bed and we'll worry about tickets in the morning."

"I swear Sirius, if we miss the Cup because you wanted to come here, I'll never forgive you."

"Hm," Sirius says vaguely, "She's probably worth it."

"I don't need to hear that!"

* * *

Harry leaps to his feet, whooping and cheering as Ireland scores another goal. He's never overly enjoyed watching Quidditch before but the atmosphere is infectious. The section he and Sirius are in doesn't have the best view but since tickets were (comparatively) cheap it's full of young witches and wizards and therefore is far livelier than any other area.

"Foul!" the pretty brown-haired witch next to Harry yells angrily, "That was a foul!" Her name is Erin. She's fifteen and Irish, and Harry is definitely attracted to her though it's probably only due to the fact that she's there and sharing the camaraderie of the crowd with him.

There is booing and hissing and shouts of disapproval from all around. Then the referee is distracted by the veela mascots of the Bulgarian team and the crowd riots. Harry's yelling too, even though he's only supported Ireland since he sat down next to Erin.

"Look!" Harry shouts, grabbing Erin's arm to get her attention, "Lynch has seen the snitch! He's after it!"

In seconds they're all on their feet again, screaming in approval. Then Krum snatches it right from underneath Lynch's nose and they all groan. "No way," Erin says, dropping back into her seat, "We were so close! We dominated the whole game!"

"C'mon Erin!" a girl who can only be her older sister calls. "Let's go celebrate how much better Ireland played!"

"I've got to go," Erin says unnecessarily. "It was nice meeting you."

She gets up and Harry grabs her wrist impulsively, making her turn back. "Something to remember me by," he says, and swiftly kisses her on the lips.

Erin cocks an eyebrow at him when he pulls back. "You could come with us," she offers.

Harry looks pleadingly at Sirius.

"How old are your sister and her friends?" Sirius shouts over the noise of the crowd.

"My sister's twenty-two," Erin shouts back, "But the tall one with the wavy black hair is twenty-eight."

"Let's go!"

* * *

Harry is drunk. It's not the first time but it is the first time he's been more than a little tipsy.

"I'm in love," he declares.

Sirius laughs. "Was that the furthest you've gone with a girl?"

"Hey! You're my godfather! You're supposed to be blissfully ignorant of all the tomfoolery I get up to," Harry complains. "Besides, I wasn't talking about Emily-"

"Erin," Sirius corrects. "Never get a girl's name wrong if you ever want to get anything from her again."

"Right," Harry says. "But I meant I'm in love with," he gestures vaguely, "All this. Quidditch and people and campfires and... Do you hear that?"

Sirius cocks his head and frowns. "... Harry, get up. Do you have your wand?" Harry nods. "Good. I want you to activate your portkey and wait for me at home, okay?"

"Mischief aborted," Harry says. Nothing happens.

"The wards; of course," Sirius says. "Okay, Harry this is going to hurt..." He taps Harry head with his wand.

Harry staggers as blinding pain erupts in his skull and nausea makes his stomach threaten to rebel. "Ow... What the hell was that?"

"Sobriety charm," Sirius says, "The pain should fade in a minute or two. You're going to have to take a rehydration potion and an anti-nausea concoction pretty soon if you don't want to be down with worse than a hangover all day tomorrow."

They can hear panicked shouts and jeering laughter and the sound of fighting much more clearly now and all around them people are fleeing as tents are set alight.

"What's going on?" Harry says as he realises it's not just rowdy Quidditch fans.

"We're getting out of here," Sirius says grimly. "Whatever you do, don't lose me but if anything happens get past the wards however you can and portkey home."

Harry almost tells Sirius that his instructions don't make sense but his progressively more sober brain tells him to just agree. "Got it," he says.

* * *

Harry is hiding behind a crate under a disillusionment charm. Their attempts at getting away unhindered failed after a wall of cursed fire blocked their escape through the maze of tents and now Sirius has been drawn off into the fray, fighting wizards in black robes and white masks.

"Well, well, what have we here?" a voice says.

Harry turns only to come face-to-face with a Death Eater. He wastes no time lashing out with his wand, sending curses, jinxes and hexes flying but the wizard shrugs them off with terrifying ease and lazily throws a piercing curse at him. Harry flicks up a shield but it shatters as soon as the curse slams into it and he barely has enough time to dodge, letting it nail him in the shoulder instead of the chest.

Luckily any further offence on his opponent's part is aborted when Sirius reappears from the scrimmage, wand flashing, to engage him in combat. The fight that follows is almost too fast for Harry's eyes to catch but within a minute the Death Eater is down and bound.

"Keep an eye out for me, would you Harry," Sirius says as he casts a number of spells on the man.

Harry hurries to obey though after his recent performance and with his injury he isn't sure how much use he'll be. The tide is starting to turn against the rioters now as more aurors appear by the second. "Hurry up Sirius," Harry says anxiously.

"Nearly done," his godfather grunts and Harry glances behind him to see that the Death Eater is now secured in a large sack.

"How are we supposed to get away unnoticed towing _that_ around?" Harry asks.

"Ever heard of the Bedazzling Hex?" Sirius says, "It makes people's attention skate past you. Of course any good auror will notice straight away but if you combine it with a projected variant of the Memory Charm they'll simply forget they noticed in the first place."

* * *

The man that Sirius had captured – Sergei Dolohov, they learn, younger brother of the infamous Antonin Dolohov – is kept in one of the cells in the level beneath the basement which Harry hadn't even known about before and isn't allowed near. Not that he'd go even if given the chance. Harry tries not to think about him, or the interrogation conducted by the people he works and eats and jokes with even as he avidly listens in to the discussions about the information the man provides.

In any case, he hasn't the time to dwell on it as he works himself into the ground trying to finish all the major structural work on the house so they can put up the wards before Hogwarts begins again.

"So what are you going to do with Dolohov when you're, you know, _done_ with him?" Harry says apprehensively to Sirius as he practises transfiguring his wand arm into a raven wing and back again. Along with the head, it is one of the two truly difficult stages of self-transfiguration to master.

"Oh," Sirius says, sounding honestly surprised, "Didn't you know? We gave him to the Ministry yesterday."

"What? Why?" Harry says and he's pleased to note that he is able to transfigure his wing back into an arm without error despite his surprise.

Sirius pauses to watch Harry's progress before answering the question, "We were done with him and everyone the Ministry took in was broken out within hours. Dumbledore's going to try to use him to get the aurors to increase their dark lord alert status. Honestly, I doubt it'll work since as soon as he mentions You-Know-Who they'll just assume he's a crazy fanatic."

Harry nods, remembering his conversation with Mundungus. "Couldn't he say there's a dark lord risk without mentioning Voldemort? I mean there was enough evidence of that for you to catch on last year."

"The signs I saw last year could be seen as circumstantial evidence at best. I only caught on because I'd seen the same thing dozens of time in my time as a mercenary."

"Oh," Harry says and falls silent as he transfigures his arm into a wing and then back again with all the effortlessness of long practise.

"Good work, if you can get it five more times in a row with no mistakes you can try your head," Sirius says.

Harry nods. Then another thought occurs to him. "How can you just turn him in after two days though? Dolohov, I mean. Isn't that a bit suspicious?"

"Dumbledore's spinning it like a friend of his took him in for a bit of retribution after the riot and he's only just been able to convince the guy to give Dolohov up to the Ministry," Sirius says with a shrug. "It wouldn't be the first time that sort of thing has happened."

"And you don't get in trouble for it?" Harry says incredulously.

"Technically it's against the law," Sirius says, "But the Wizarding World has a long history of self-governance. It's only recently that we've started gathering in places like Knockturn Alley and Hogsmeade and that autonomy is still a strong part of our culture so the Ministry generally lets it slide."

Harry looks speculative. "So could we take retri-" He is cut off when Sirius transfigures his head into that of a raven.

"We're not taking retribution on anyone," Sirius says. He changes Harry back to normal and says, "Now, your turn."

"It just isn't fair how good you are at transfiguration," Harry whines.

"Stop wasting time and practise," Sirius says unsympathetically. "You've only got four days since you are absolutely _not_ doing this unsupervised. And don't even think of asking McGonagall to help – she'll see straight through any story you try to spin."

* * *

_Normally I would have edited out ninety percent of this and put it at the start of fourth year but I haven't really been working on the next chapter that much and I hate it when other writers leave me hanging so... enjoy._

_Also, I rewrote last chapter's scene where Harry tells Sirius what he past-Saw Remus do since a lot of people seemed a bit confused about it but I'm not sure if it clears anything up. Anyway, if you didn't get it have a look and see if it helps at all._


	5. Fourth Year – part I

Fourth Year – part I

"... _Moody_?" Harry says incredulously. "That sneaky old bastard! He never mentioned he was teaching Defence!"

"How do you know Moody?" Ron asks.

"Did you meet him over the summer, then?" Lavender says eagerly.

Harry pretends he doesn't hear them.

"Alastor Moody? He's really well known," Hermione says, "He's mentioned a number of books as one of the key figures in the resistance against You-Know-Who. I can't wait for his class; I'll bet he really knows his stuff."

"I dunno," Ron says, "My dad knows him and reckons he's a bit off his rocker. Everyone calls him Mad Eye Moody-"

"You can see why," Dean interjects.

"And there's a rumour he's even crazier than his eye. He's famous for being so paranoid he's convinced everything that moves is a dark wizard," Ron finishes.

Parvati shivers, "He looks creepy."

"He's not too bad," Harry says. "I'm pretty sure he's senile though."

"Don't say that about a teacher, Harry," Hermione admonishes. "Besides, Dumbledore wouldn't have hired him if he was senile."

Everyone at the table gives her incredulous looks. "That's just plain _wrong_ on so many levels I don't even know where to start," Harry says.

"You know, even though Moody retired he's still in and out of the Ministry all the time helping train the auror recruits. It'll be a real shame if he ends up dying as well," Ron muses.

"We don't actually know that Professor Lupin died," Hermione says.

Lavender rolls her eyes. "Honestly, what _else_ could have happened?" she says, "He's the defence professor and he mysteriously disappears one day at the end of the year. The only question is how he died, not if."

Harry tries to look innocent. "Do all the defence professors die then? Or do any just leave at the end of year?" he asks, trying to shift the subject from Lupin.

Ron scrunches up his face in thought. "I'm pretty sure Percy's first professor eloped with a student at the end of the year. Her father murdered him when he found them though."

"Well if anyone's going to survive, it's Moody," Harry says. "Old age is the only thing that'll ever get close enough to kill him without being cursed to pieces."

* * *

"I don't want you getting the wrong idea," Harry says. "Care of Magical Creatures is one of my favourite subjects but I already know everything we do in class from visiting you so I'm changing to Ancient Runes."

"That's alrigh' Harry," Hagrid says, although he looks a bit disappointed. "As long as yeh keep comin' down to see me o' course."

Harry grins. "You can count on it. I'll be relying on you to make sure I know my magical creatures."

Hagrid perks up, "Speakin' o' magical creatures, I got somethin' to show yeh." He leads Harry outside where he has a few crates of brownish-green eggs that give of a foul stench. If it wasn't for Hagrid's proud smile he would've thought them rotten.

"What are they?" Harry asks, holding his nose and peering closer.

"Careful, there," Hagrid warns. "The gas they give off is poisonous."

Harry quickly pulls back.

"They don't rightly have a name yet," Hagrid says. "I got 'em by crossing a manticore and a fire crab."

Harry raises an eyebrow. "Er, you should probably keep that fact to yourself. It's not strictly legal to go around breeding different species of magical creatures." Hagrid looks shifty and Harry grins, "But you already knew that, didn't you?"

"Stick around an' watch 'em for a bit," the gameskeeper says, not so subtly changing the subject. "I think they're about ter hatch."

Harry looks at the eggs. Manticores are the same level of dangerous as basilisks and fire crabs aren't exactly harmless either. In the muggle world two species so different could never reduce but this is the wizarding world and such dissimilar parents will only give their offspring a wider range of capabilities. It would definitely be safer to never set foot within a mile of the creatures but Harry's morbid curiosity is a hundred times stronger than his self-preservation instincts. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

* * *

"Hey Hermione," Harry calls quietly. The bushy-haired witch is sitting all the way across the classroom from him but Professor Binns doesn't even glance at them as he drones on.

"What?" Hermione snaps, having the audacity to actually look annoyed at being distracted from the monotonous lecture.

"Can ghosts see through illusions?"

She still looks irritated but couples it with a thoughtful expression. "I don't know. We could look in the library at lunch. Why do you ask?"

"Idle curiosity," Harry says innocently. Hermione gives him a flat stare and he smoothly changes the subject. "How about after dinner? We're playing a friendly game of Quidditch during lunch."

"Fine," she huffs and turns back to face the front.

"What's this about Quidditch?" Ron asks, having woken up from his dazed stupor at the mention of his favourite sport.

"Me and the group I study with were planning on having a game over lunch. Want to join?"

"Sure. Who's playing?"

"Me, Justin, Ernie, Sally-Anne, Susan, Hannah, Leanne, Stephen, Kevin and Su-Li," Harry lists. "We should invite Dean and Seamus along too so Gryffindor won't be the minority."

"That's what happens when you're always ditching your own house," Ron says.

"It's not like it's an exclusive group, Ron," Harry says, rolling his eyes, "Everyone's welcome to join us but apparently me and Hermione are the only Gryffindors that study before the last minute."

"Well _yeah_," Ron says. "You won't catch me in the library if I don't have to be."

"It's called socialising," Harry rejoins. "And you end up spending a lot more time on homework when you have ten other people helping you with it."

"Whatever," Ron says, sounding unconvinced.

"Seriously," Harry says, "Do you even have any friends outside of Gryffindor?"

Ron thinks about it. "One time I was paired with Justin Finch-Fletchley in Herbology," he says eventually. "He's a nice bloke."

* * *

"I'm with Sally-Anne," Harry says, "I reckon it's going to be Diggory. Angelina's great but Diggory's in his own league."

"Traitor!" Dean accuses in mock outrage.

"What about Roger Davies?" Padma suggests.

"Are you serious?" Su Li says. "As far as magical ability he's definitely up there but he's an intellectual, not a champion. I mean, could you imagine him going up against a manticore or whatever ridiculous task they come up for this time?"

"I suppose it's a reflection of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team that he's captain," Harry says slyly.

"Hey!" Padma protests.

"He's only telling the truth," Su Li says and Padma half-heartedly glares at her.

"Why don't you consider Marcus Flint," Hermione says, "Since apparently the only contenders are the Quidditch captains."

"Because he's a thug," Padma says in a tone that questions Hermione's sanity.

"Offended the prefects aren't in the running?" Dean says with a teasing grin.

"You've got to admit the Quidditch captains are the type to be chosen, though" Su Li says. "They're glory hounds, athletic and stupid enough to do something so dangerous. Except Davies they're all leaders, and I'm not sure about Johnson as far as magical ability goes but Davies is brilliant and everyone knows Diggory is good at everything he tries his hand at."

"Edgar Lawrence-" Hermione starts to say.

"Might be Head Boy but would never be champion," Harry says. "He's got ambition, sure but he's not exactly competitive. He'd probably-"

"Potter!" Moody interrupts, stomping around the corner. "Thought you could hide from me, did you?"

"Ah, shit, not this again," Harry says, shoving his book bag at Dean. "I'll see you guys later." And with that he takes off down the hallway.

"Not so fast, Potter," Moody roars. "_Petrificus Totalus_!"

"_Protego_!" Harry shouts over his shoulder as he keeps running, successfully blocking the curse only to topple to the silent Leg-Locker Moody sent after it.

"... Um, aren't we going to do anything?" Sally-Anne says hesitantly as Moody levitates a violently cursing Harry down the corridor.

"Nah," Dean says easily, "This isn't exactly the first time it's happened and Harry always comes back fine. Well, mostly fine."

"It's actually quite interesting to see Harry adapt to Professor Moody's techniques," Hermione says.

* * *

"_Glacius, glacius, glacius, INCENDIO_!" Harry shouts, suddenly melting the ice in front of Lisa Turpin who is unable to stop in time and skates right into the lake.

Lisa splutters when she resurfaces and grips the edge of the ice to steady herself as she aims her wand at Harry and yells, "_Wingardium Leviosa_."

Levitating magical beings is tricky as their internal magic affects the spell but Lisa isn't going for mastery. Harry is barely picked up before he's dropped again but it's enough to unbalance him and before he can regain his footing he careens off the ice.

Luckily it's an unusually hot day for October and the cool lake water is actually fairly pleasant. Instead of getting back on the ice Harry pulls off his outer robe and transfigures it into an inflatable mattress. "This is the life," he says to Lisa who is sitting at the edge of the ice as she undoes the transfiguration on her shoes that gave them blades, unconcerned by the fact that her warming charm is rapidly melting the ice they'd previously been trying to maintain.

"I just can't believe Hermione stayed behind again," Lisa says. This is the third time their entire History class minus Hermione has snuck out, leaving behind an illusion cast by Harry to cover their absence. "It's not like she's actually learning anything."

Harry frowns. Lisa has always resented Hermione for doing better than her academically and not even having the decency of being in Ravenclaw and she never wastes an opportunity to pick a bone with the Gryffindor witch. Still, he's not about to disagree since Hermione is being a bit of an insufferable prig about the whole thing.

Of course that doesn't change that she's his friend and he knows he is pretty much the only one that more than just tolerates her so he shrugs noncommittally and catches Lisa's eye. "I think the Seamus, Dean and Ron are getting a bit arrogant," he says, nodding towards the three boys who are zooming around as fast as they can and showing off, nearly running into someone every five seconds.

Lisa grins. "Have you got an idea?"

"If you twist your wrist just a quarter of a turn clockwise at the end of the freezing charm it'll make the ice especially slippery," Harry says. "Aim right in front of them on the count of three. One... Two..."

"_WHAT_ IS GOING ON HERE?"

The fourth years turn to see McGonagall standing at the edge of the lake, spitting mad.

"Oh shit."

* * *

"Dude," Dean says, "I don't think there's a single witch from Beauxbatons that _isn't_ hot."

"What's with Durmstrang though?" Seamus says, "I thought they'd have the gorgeous Scandinavian type but they all look like trolls."

"Maybe Beauxbatons has a screening process for babes and all the rejects go to Durmstrang," Dean suggests.

"Check out that one at the front," Seamus says, "With the silvery hair."

"Silver hair?" Dean says sceptically. Then he visibly double-takes, "Wow. Holy _crap_. I want a transfer."

Lavender clears her throat, "Are you finished?"

"I think just looking at her is going to make him finish," Harry smirks.

Lavender chokes on her pumpkin juice as Dean gives him the finger and Seamus and Ron laugh.

"When are you guys going to enter the Tournament?" Neville says, swiftly cutting off that line of conversation.

"Tomorrow afternoon," Seamus says, glancing at Dean and Ron for confirmation.

"All the older years will probably put their names in straight away," Ron says. "So we figured there'd be less people hanging around watching later on."

"Are you entering, Nev?" Harry asks.

"Nah, not much point, is there?" Neville says with a self-depreciating shrug.

"Yeah, that's what I figure," Harry agrees. "The seventh years have had twice as much schooling as us and you only really learn the useful stuff fifth year or later."

"But..." Ron gapes.

"We're Gryffindors," Seamus explains slowly, "It's not about how good your chances are, it's about taking them."

Neville looks uncomfortable but Harry just shrugs. "I like being a spectator."

"What does that even mean?" Dean says. "Seriously – why wouldn't you enter?"

"I'm going to be busy enough this year; I wouldn't want to have to worry about the Tournament too."

"Busy with _what_?" Seamus says.

Becoming an Animagus, sneaking away on weekends to hang out with his escaped convict of a godfather at the base of a secret society, having fun and running amok with his friends before the maybe-upcoming war with Voldemort... "Er," Harry says. "... Avoiding Moody and, ah..."

They ignore him and Dean says, "And if you think you're not going to be chosen anyway, what's the harm in entering?"

Harry sighs. "I will if you will," he says to Neville.

* * *

"The Hogwarts champion is... Harry Potter!" Dumbledore calls.

Harry's jaw drops. Then he turns to glare at his friends who are hooting and hollering and pointedly avoiding his aggravated gaze. Neville is looking at him worriedly though so he sends his timid friend a wry smile; after all it is pretty awesome that out of everyone in the school, more than half of who are older than him, _he _was chosen to as champion.

Then he catches Cedric's eye across the hall and his grin turns to a smirk as he arrogantly cocks his eyebrow at his friend. He's going to give the older boy so much shit over this even if Cedric pulls out his usual modest, you-deserve-it routine.

Padma smiles at him from the Ravenclaw table and mouths, "Well done."

"Well don't just stand there," Lavender says exasperatedly, "Go!"

Harry obeys, making his way down the hall and into the small antechamber and the end in a daze. Fleur Delacour and Victor Krum are waiting inside and they look around in unison when he enters the room.

"_You_ are ze 'Ogwarts shampion?" Fleur says, clearly disbelieving.

"I suppose so," Harry says reflectively, as much to himself as to her. Krum doesn't say anything but when Harry nods at him he returns it stiffly, glaring at Harry with dark eyes. Not in the mood for a staring competition with the grumpy champion, Harry ignores him and lounges against the wall.

Fleur smirks, "'Ow fortunate for us, alzough certainly eet is an 'umiliation for your school to be represented by such a leetle boy."

"Or maybe it's your school that's humiliated," Harry says, grinning playfully, "By having a champion with such poor judgement."

Fleur flushes slightly and Harry notices that the colour in her cheeks only makes her look even more attractive, but before she can reply the door to the room bursts open and Bagman and Crouch come in followed by Dumbledore, Maxime and Karkaroff.

* * *

"The Slytherins want you to know that they'll leave you alone for the duration of the Tournament as long as you do not further embarrass the school," Theo says abruptly during potions.

Harry nearly jumps. Ever since the disastrous Solstice party Theo has limited his interactions with Harry to the bare minimum needed to get by in class. It hasn't offended Harry; in his opinion Slytherins are like aliens and he'll be the first to admit he doesn't understand their bizarre culture. "Wait, _further_ embarrass?" he says, "What've I done already?"

"Britain may hail you as the Boy Who Lived but outside our borders you are just another fourteen year old boy. That someone with only three years of magical education is the best Hogwarts has to offer has called into question not only our teaching methods but also the validity of a Hogwarts degree."

"Merlin," Harry says. "The Tournament is that important?"

"Quite," Theo says. "Therefore, Slytherin expects you will do at least as well, if not better than the other champions."

"Yeah, I'll do my best," Harry says, privately wondering why the Goblet chose him. He's excited to be in the Tournament of course, but he doesn't have the same zealous drive to win that the other champions and apparently everyone else in Hogwarts has. "But what do you mean that Slytherin will leave me alone?"

"The attacks will stop," Theo says shortly, as he waits for Harry to finish slicing their sneezewort roots.

"Attacks?" Harry says, purposefully going slowly so that Theo will be forced to listen to him.

"The older years attacking you from behind," Theo says derisively, "Did you not notice?"

"That was Slytherins? I just assumed it was Moody. Bloody hell, some of those curses were really nasty."

"You don't want to get on the bad side of any Slytherin, let alone the whole house," Theo agrees.

"You don't say," Harry says.

* * *

"Dragons have strong, primitive magic protecting their hide," Neville reads. He and Hermione have declared it their job to help Harry through the Tournament, rules be damned. Ron is there too, having wheedled them into letting him join in by reminding them that he has an excellent mind for strategy and his older brother a dragon keeper.

"Everyone knows that," Ron says impatiently, "That's why dragon keepers are stuck with using potions and the Conjunctivitis Curse."

"Well I can't exactly go out there and brew a sleeping draught," Harry says, "And the Conjunctivitis Curse is only really useful as a distraction. Would it be possible to transfigure chains strong enough to tie it down?"

Hermione looks doubtful. "I know you're really good at transfiguration but they'd have to be really thick and long and there couldn't be _any_ imperfections..."

"It's not like there's any easy way to face down a dragon," Harry says. "And Transfiguration is one of my best subjects; I might as well take advantage of that."

"Even if you fireproofed them it might still get out on pure strength," Ron says. "These are _dragons_."

"What if I reinforced them with magic? I'm sure I could figure out a way to enchant them for strength as well as making them heat resistant."

"It'd be really difficult; you'd have a lot of chain to enchant and the dragon wouldn't just be waiting for you to finish, not to mention it would fight you every inch of the way once you started actually tying it up," Hermione says. "Besides, Charms isn't one of your best subjects and enchanting is one of its most complicated branches. What about using ice against it?"

"Even cursed ice isn't strong enough to hold up against dragon fire," Harry says.

"Are there any ways to make a dragon sick?" Neville suggests.

"Hagrid would know," Harry says.

"It'd have to work fast," Hermione says, "You can't just sit around for a week waiting for it to catch a cold."

"Well is there anything they're allergic to?" Harry asks.

"Charlie told me about some plant that makes them go berserk if you burn it," Ron said. "Apparently there was a reserve that had to shut down because one of the dragons set some of it on fire and ended up slaughtering every dragon and dragon keeper there. Luckily it sustained so many injuries in the process that it died before it could go anywhere else."

"Right," Harry says, "I might give that one a miss. Anything else?"

"I don't think dragons even get sick," Ron says, sounding a bit huffy. "Their only weakness is their eyes."

"Don't you have anything useful to contribute? We've already decided the Conjunctivitis Curse wouldn't work," Hermione snaps.

"It's eyes..." Harry says slowly, thinking of Norbert and Binns. "Basic illusions don't work on dragons but there might be a more advanced variant that could work. Guys, I need a list of every illusion spell you can find."

* * *

"Pay attention, Harry," McGonagall says sternly.

Harry drags his eyes away from the window and looks at his professor sheepishly. "Sorry Professor."

McGonagall sighs. "You're not the only one missing out on your free time," she reminds him.

Harry nods. It's true, and he does appreciate everything his professors are doing for him. Still, they haven't given up every spare _second_ of their time to a gruelling schedule set and enforced by his formidable head of house. They don't have friends lazing around by the lake that they could be hanging out with instead. But they also aren't expected to face down a dragon with little more than three years of magical education and that's the only reason Harry is willingly going along with this.

He wonders when she expects him to devise a strategy for dealing with the dragon since if he's not asleep, in class or eating then either she, Flitwick or Moody is doing their best to drill several years' worth of information into him. Then he remembers that he's not even supposed to know about the dragon. He almost tells her right there since the Hogwarts professors obviously aren't against cheating but... He doesn't _need_ the extra time with all the help he's getting from other students and the tutoring really is helpful.

"You're very talented for your age," McGonagall is saying when Harry tunes back in. He briefly wonders if what he missed was important. Unlikely, considering this seems to be a motivational speech, "Exceptional, even. I don't doubt that played a significant role in why you were chosen to represent the school in this tournament. However, you must remember that not only are you competing with a witch and wizard who are years older and more experienced than you but also that they too were chosen for being exceptional."

Harry nods and tunes out again. He'd rather she just get the lesson over and done with instead of wasting time like she is. He doesn't need to be motivated. He's seen the dragons. They were awe inspiring and, more to the point, terror inspiring too. Norbert had been scary enough when she was only a year old and less than a quarter the size of these creatures. And she'd _liked_ him.

Any competitiveness he'd been feeling earlier had disappeared completely when he laid eyes on the dragons. He now has one goal and one goal only: survive.

* * *

"Hermione reckons you guys have found every illusion spell in the library," Harry says to Neville.

Neville nods warily. Harry is hedging which means he thinks Neville won't like what he wants to say.

"I'm going to go down to the Forest tonight to test them out," Harry continues. "So if none of them work we have the most time possible to think up a new plan."

"That's probably for the best," Neville agrees.

"The problem is," Harry says and Neville cringes, "They're pretty well guarded since they're supposed to be kept a secret." Harry has to wonder if it's part of the Tournament to see if they can discover the task without being caught since surely the Ministry could keep it a secret if they really wanted it to. He kind of hopes not even though that would make their government a bit pathetic. The only reason he found out and got close enough for a look was thanks to Hagrid and his cloak – absolutely no skill on his part there.

"What are you getting at?" Neville says.

"Well," Harry says, scratching his head. "I can get passed their security using my cloak but I need someone to come with me and keep a lookout while I try out all the different illusions."

"Oh," Neville says. They both know he's not the type to sneak out after curfew, and going into the Forbidden Forest in the middle of the night to cheat in an international tournament is a few steps beyond that. But Harry's going to go up against a dragon on his own and he can't exactly say no. "Um, I don't really deal with pressure very well," Neville says weakly.

"I trust you," Harry says. "You're the most reliable guy I know."

"What do I need to do?" Neville says with resigned determination.

* * *

Harry hops up to sit on the table Hermione is working at. Madam Pince sends him a sharp glare and he smiles winningly in response. "Two minutes," he mouths across the library, knowing better that to speak in more than a whisper. She huffs and looks away.

"How'd it go?" Hermione says.

"The Welsh Green was susceptible to few of them, the Fireball none and there were two that seemed to partially work on the Horntail," Harry says. "I guess I'm working on transfiguring and enchanting chains."

Hermione nods, her face tight with worry. "I have a list of the spells you'll want," she says, reaching into her bag and rifling through the dozens of scrolls within it.

"Of course you do," Harry says with fond amusement.

Hermione huffs and reaches deeper into her bag. "It's here somewhere..."

"Is that an expansion charm on your bag?" Harry asks curiously.

"Yeah," Hermione says, "I didn't have enough space in my bag even last year and now with all the extra research I'm doing for the Tournament..."

Harry frowns, "Not that I don't appreciate it because I do – more than I can say – but I really think you shouldn't be doing so much to help me. I mean you practically had a break down last year and while you dropped Muggle Studies I'm pretty sure you're doing at least three times as much for this as you did for that. It's not like there aren't enough people in the castle begging to do something to help."

"I'm fine, Harry," Hermione says, "I'm not the one in the Tournament. And with so many people willing to help out I can delegate practically everything. Really, all I do is put it all together at the end."

"If you're sure," Harry says doubtfully, watching her through narrowed eyes as though if he looks hard enough he'll see the lie.

"I am," Hermione says firmly. "Now go talk to Professor Flitwick. Even if he can't help you directly maybe he can give you some general tips on enchanting."

"Yes, yes, I'll leave and let you get back to your books," Harry says long-sufferingly and hops off the table.

Hermione bites her lip. "And Harry... If you don't have enough time to get this down before the task, let me know."

"Hermione?" Harry says, confused.

Hermione shakes her head. "Just, trust me Harry."

* * *

"Good luck tomorrow, Harry," Sirius says sombrely.

"I'll be fine, Sirius," Harry says. "I've known what I'll be facing since day one. Well, day two, but same difference. And all up I've had about five weeks to prepare."

Sirius shakes his head disbelievingly. "I can't believe the Ministry gave your friend a time turner," he says. It wasn't really Harry's secret to share but he was annoyed at Hermione for not telling him and he couldn't take it out on her while she was breaking the law and missing class to lend it to him. Of course it was only the latter that she was really upset about.

Harry shrugs. "The Ministry's been making a lot of weird decisions lately. At least this is one I can approve of."

Sirius nods grimly in agreement. "This really is the wrong time for the Ministry to be taking a turn for the worse. But I don't want you worrying about any of that. Concentrate on the tournament."

"Yeah, yeah. Merlin Sirius, chill out a little. You were fine sending me to deal with those zombies when I was twelve; it's not like I turned to glass in the past two years," Harry says.

"_Inferi_, Harry," Sirius corrects. "When are you going to let that go? It was only three of them and I thought you knew incendio. Seriously – what kind of wizard can't even make fire?"

"Twelve year old me," Harry says. "I was stuck using tripping jinxes and tarantellegra."

Sirius laughs. "And wasn't that a sight! If you hadn't looked so terrified I would've thought you were putting down a boggart!"

"Funny for you. Even semi-disabled they'd been chasing me around for the better part of twenty minutes. I was starting to think you weren't going to come back and I'd be running until one of them eventually got lucky and ate my brains."

"I'm so sorry," Sirius says sarcastically, "I was only taking care of the other two hundred and fifty inferi and trying to disable the rest of the defences that stupid archaeologist set off. Nothing important."

"Oh _now_ you admit I'm right. If I'd known all I had to do to get you to agree was pit myself against a dragon we could've settled this years ago," Harry says.

Sirius blanches and Harry rolls his eyes. "Okay I'm going to go now before you freak me out any more with the whole 'responsible adult' routine," he says, "I thought you'd be encouraging me to hit the dragon with a Tickling Charm to thumb my nose at the establishment or something, not going gray with worry and telling me to be _careful_."

"I won't say anything if you promise to call me the _second_ you make it out of there, okay?" Sirius says.

"Done," Harry agrees.

* * *

Harry steps into the arena and his breath catches in his throat. Up close, the Hungarian Horntail looks about ten thousand times more menacing than she did from a distance. _I am going to die_, Harry thinks clearly. Despite all the planning and training he is simply not equipped to go up against such a perfectly designed predator. Even a millennium wouldn't change that.

The Horntail's eyes narrow and Harry snaps out of it. His wand blurs through a scent masking charm, a sound barrier and the two illusion spells that he knows affect the Horntail. His adrenalin fuelled brain has an epiphany and he layers and twists together the two illusions in a way that seems so logical and intuitive but at the same time he's more than a little awed at himself for coming up with it.

"Snap out of it, Potter," Harry murmurs to himself, eyes focused on the dragon. She shouldn't be able to sense him anymore but he still doesn't feel safe just standing around in the open so he darts over to a pile of boulders by the edge of the enclosure and sits down to begin his work.

Just over ten minutes later he has a twenty metre long chain the width of a finger that is brimming with various enchantments. It's time to begin. Step one is to transfigure a rock into a deer. Step two involves a switching spell with its intestines and his chain. Harry feels a bit cruel but faced with a Hungarian Horntail he's willing to compromise his morals in order to survive.

The deer stumbles out from behind his rocky protection when Harry jabs his wand at it. The Horntail's attention is immediately caught but she won't be lured from her nest so Harry prods the unwilling animal closer. He's probably losing points for poor control of his creation but that's not even in his top one hundred things to be concerned about at the moment.

He's a bit worried that the Horntail will just roast it but the nesting mother isn't about to give up a free meal and as soon as the deer wanders within range her neck snakes out, lightning quick, and the deer is snapped up by powerful jaws.

Harry has read all about Hungarian Horntails and he'd known, intellectually, how fast they can move but seeing it is another thing entirely. Especially since that's what he'll have to face if he fails. Luckily his seeker reflexes save him from missing his cue in his horrified awe, and before the dragon's jaws close he is waving his wand and muttering various spells. Without warning the chain bursts out of the deer, growing and wrapping around the dragon's muzzle at the same time.

The Horntail tries to snarl but can't open her mouth. The chain is still growing and splits into several lengths that slither over her hide. She tries to fight, rubbing against the ground and trying to scratch them off and making sounds of distress that, even muffled by her closed mouth, hurt Harry's ears.

It's impossible not to pity the dragon but Harry simply increases the speed of his spell casting as she is alarmingly effective in her bids for freedom. Magical reinforcement is rendered useless beneath her claws and wing spikes and the chains only last two or three blows before giving way, as his self-repairing charms struggle to keep up. However, as the chains continue to thicken two or three becomes three or four and then four or five and as the dragon's front legs then wings then hind legs are bound, she finds it more and more difficult to get at the chains at all. By the time the chains have finished growing, now as thick as a man's body, they have wound around the Horntail's entire body and she can only helplessly thrash around.

Knowing he doesn't have much time, Harry barely hesitates before running out from behind his cover. The Horntail has moved away from her nest in her thrashing and he is able to give her a fairly wide a berth as he goes to the nest and snatches up the golden egg before legging it for the gate.

Unfortunately the Horntail is mostly blocking his way and he'll have to get pretty close to her to get past. Not knowing how long his chains will last since they're made of pretty advanced magic that he's hasn't had long to master, Harry takes a deep breath and makes a run for it. His heart is in his mouth the entire time and several times he jumps and skitters to the side when he doesn't need to. Only once is it actually necessary as the dragon's tail nearly slams into him but he throws himself out of the way, nearly losing grip of the egg as he tucks and rolls – a move drilled into him by Moody – and twenty seconds later he is out of the arena and safe.

* * *

"... but bloody hell, you should have seen Krum. He _slayed_ his dragon. Literally. He went out there, conjured a sword, enchanted the shit out of it and went up against it the old fashioned way," Dean says excitedly.

Harry nods absent-mindedly, wondering what magic Krum used on his sword. No doubt something dishearteningly far beyond his level. It would have to be in order to combat the ancient magic in the dragon's skin.

"That is one guy I can say for sure I never want to cross," Seamus agrees. "His curses were on the nasty side of dark and if that's what they learn at school all I can say is that Durmstrang lives up to its reputation and more."

"What'd Delacour do?" Harry asks. His heart's still hammering faster than a hummingbird's wings and he wants to keep his friends distracted while he comes to terms with having just faced down a bloody _dragon_.

"Some sort of hypnosis thing, I think," Dean says, "It broke free of her control a couple times so she got a few burns and a one nasty cut but other than that it was smooth sailing."

"You're just saying that because you're in love with her," Lavender says. She turns to Harry, "She did the worst of the three of you. You actually came out on top since even though the judges thought Krum's performance was more impressive, he wasn't supposed to kill the dragon and he destroyed the entire arena as well, including every egg in the nest other than the golden one."

"_I_ came first?" Harry says incredulously. He'd been amazed he came out unscathed but on a scale of one to what he could have done after three more years of education, he figured he'd scored about a three.

"Weren't you paying any attention to what we were all shouting about when we burst in here?" Sally-Anne says. "I didn't think you could've missed it."

Harry scratches the back of his head. "Well you _were_ all talking at the same time... it was kind of hard to understand what you were saying."

"Whatever," Seamus says, "Let's go. We're having a celebration in the Fourth Year Common Room. The Slytherins have convinced the teachers to look the other way and Megan Jones got her hands on twelve bottles of fairy pop and a crate of butterbeer."

As Harry allows himself to be tugged away he meets Krum's eyes from across the tent. The Bulgarian's dark glare is no less challenging than on their first meeting but there's a measure of respect there now.

Harry nods at him, a friendly grin on his face. It's impossible not to feel a sense of solidarity after what they just went through. No one can really understand what it's like to face down a dragon without experiencing it themselves.

Then Krum's eyes drift away and Harry thinks that maybe the older champion is just high on pain potions.


	6. Fourth year – part II

Fourth year – part II

"So what's the Slytherin consensus?" Harry asks Theo during Potions.

Theo shrugs. "While you did adequately, you should display much more impressive magic in the next task. The tricks you used on the dragon weren't anything a sixth or seventh year couldn't have done."

Harry laughs, "First place is adequate now? There's no pleasing you Slytherins."

"The better you perform, the more they will demand of you," Theo agrees.

Harry scoffs. "It's like trying to deal with goblins." Then he pauses. "Hey, since I'm adequate now, are you allowed to be friends with me again?"

Theo hesitates.

"Oh come on," Harry says. "Just appoint yourself the Slytherin-Harry liaison officer or something. _Someone_ has to make sure that what I'm doing is impressive enough, right?"

Theo looks mildly intrigued. "You'd be willing to let me know what you're planning?"

"Of course. It's only a secret from Krum, Delacour and anyone who might tell either of them," Harry says.

"Really? Most of the school is under the impression you're working in secrecy since no one can ever find you outside of class."

"Oh," Harry says, looking embarrassed. "Well, you're a Slytherin – you can keep a secret, right?"

"Secrets can be dangerous," Theo says, "I hope it won't be something I'll regret hearing later."

"_Slytherins_," Harry scoffs. "It's not a big deal. It's just that Hermione and Neville are giving me a lot of help and even though everyone knows cheating is integral to the Tournament I'd rather not be too blatant about it."

"If that's how casual you are about telling people, I think you already are," Theo says. "Clearly Slytherin has not been doing its job supporting the Hogwarts Champion. Someone needs to make sure you don't blow your own foot off."

"You know, Muggles have a phrase almost exactly the same as that," Harry says innocently.

"Shut up or I'll quit and appoint Draco the Slytherin-Champion liaison," Theo says.

Harry just laughs at him.

* * *

"Feel," Moody orders for what feels like the millionth time in the past hour.

A stinging hex hits Harry right above the heart, also for what feels like the millionth time in the past hour. He feels it, alright.

"You're losing focus," Moody warns. "Concentrate."

Harry shifts on the balls of his feet as though being ready to move will help him avoid an attack he can't see coming. Still, he does what Moody says. There isn't much else to do.

When the ex-auror first took his wand, blindfolded him and started firing spells at him Harry was annoyed. When Moody made it clear he wasn't going to release him Harry played along and tried to 'feel' the spells being shot at him. It didn't work and the continuous stinging hexes started to really hurt so Harry tried to cajole Moody to let him go and when that didn't work he got angry. Moody was unmoved. Harry tried waiting for the man to get bored and give up for the day. Moody made it clear that wasn't going to happen so with no other options he is left with trying again.

Harry dodges left on a whim. A moment later another stinging hex hits him on the chest. He's beginning to think this that a high pain tolerance is all he's going to get out of this.

"Stop thinking about the pain and concentrate on feeling the magic," Moody says.

Harry isn't sure how to concentrate on feeling magic since he's never felt magic before. He's got five senses and none of them are helping; he can't hear, smell or taste magic and, since he's blindfolded, he sure as hell can't _see_ it. He can feel it all too well but only the effect of the magic, not the magic itself.

Harry closes his eyes beneath the blindfold and slows his breathing as he tries to clear his mind and concentrate only on sensing magic. Except for the pain on his chest, it's fairly easy to clear his mind. Whether or not he can sense magic is harder to say.

"Feel," Moody says and his low, rumbling voice sounds like it's coming from a million miles away.

Then another stinging hex hits him on the chest.

"Sweet fucking Merlin—!"

* * *

"How's the clue going, Harrykins?" George says, snatching the heavy tome off Harry's lap and tossing it away.

It lands with a heavy thump and Harry grins. "You don't know how long I've wanted to throw that thing at a wall," he says, rolling his sore neck. "The clue is solved. Since five days ago, actually; I thought the entire castle knew that." He narrows his eyes suspiciously, "Just what've you two been holed up doing and should I be worried about my health?"

"You're in the Triwizard Tournament," Fred says.

"If you aren't worried about your physical health-"

"You should be worried about your mental health."

Harry laughs. "Maybe I'm too busy worrying about the two of you to think about the tournament at all," he says. "You guys have been working on something since before this time last year and since I've seen the chaos you can unleash with a single day's planning I'm starting to think you're bringing about the Armageddon."

"Not quite," Fred says.

The twins share a look.

"But enough about us lowly mortals!" George cries.

"We want to know how our illustrious champion is going!" Fred says.

Harry doesn't press it. "For the next task we have to fetch something from the mermaids so I'm trying to figure out the best way to get to the middle of the lake."

"What about the Bubble-Head Charm?" George says.

"I considered it," Harry admits, "But it'd take forever to swim all the way there and back. I have a few ideas I want to try out but I don't want anyone to which means sneaking down to the lake in the middle of the night."

The twins look thoughtful. "We might be able to help you out there Harrykins," George says.

"Give us a week and we can set up a lake in an unused part of the castle somewhere-"

"Just tell us how big you want it and we can get to work."

-UNEXPECTED-

"Who're you taking to the ball, Harry?" Dean asks when Harry walks into the dorm after a very long and very advanced lesson on charms from Flitwick.

Harry shrugs and flops onto his bed. "It's a toss-up between Padma and Sally-Anne. I mean, Padma's the hottest girl in our year but Sally-Anne is more fun and she doesn't expect all that romantic stuff that all the other girls want."

"Seriously?" Seamus says."Padma all the way."

"She's a bit high maintenance," Harry says. "And I don't want to make a big deal of it since it's the only day I won't be doing anything for the Tournament at least until the second task is over."

Honestly he just wants a night off to relax and hang out with his friends. He's been neglecting them pretty badly since the Tournament began and it doesn't help that since the first task they seemed to have developed a mild sense of awe of him and won't approach him on their own. It's seriously annoying, especially because everyone else has taken the opposite outlook and he is constantly mobbed by people he's never spoken to when he steps out into the corridors. He can't even be rude to them because they're genuinely excited about the Tournament and his part in it.

"Have you asked anyone to the ball Nev?" Harry says, interrupting Seamus who has gone off on a detailed spiel about Padma's qualities. He's taking Parvati to the ball so Harry's pretty sure he's picturing the wrong twin but they're similar enough that he's accurate anyway.

Neville looks nervously over at Ron and says, "Yeah, Ginny."

Ron just shrugs although Harry's sure that it's because it's Neville rather than any lack of concern. "Make sure she has a good night, okay? She's not been the same since she came to Hogwarts."

* * *

"I'm going to win it," Harry says with the certainty that comes from intoxication.

"Okay," Sally-Anne says. She hiccoughs and giggles and adds, "But don't speak too soon. You've still got a lot of work ahead of you."

Harry snorts and bumps her shoulder. "Hufflepuff."

It's the Yule Ball and after all the boring formal bits he, Sally-Anne, Seamus, Dean, Lavender, Kevin and Megan moved outside to share a bottle of firewhiskey but everyone has since returned to the party except for him and Sally-Anne. He feels kind of bad for his date but he can't bring himself to go inside again. There are too many politicians and students wanting to talk to him and he'd rather not have to worry about being Hogwarts' Champion right now.

"Let's make snow angels," Sally-Anne says suddenly, hopping up and dragging him after her.

"You're in a dress," Harry says without really trying to convince her against it.

"I'm not too drunk to cast a warming charm," she says as they slip out of the rose garden.

He decides not to point out that her dress will still get wet.

"We should go right in the middle," Sally-Anne decides as she surveys the grounds which are covered in a blanket of untouched snow that glows bluish in the moonlight.

"Okay," Harry agrees, casting warming and impervious charms on himself.

Sally-Anne tries to do the same but can't get them right. "Can you do mine too?" she asks sheepishly, giggling a bit.

Harry laughs too, and complies. "What was that about not being too drunk to cast a warming charm?"

"Well if you hadn't refused to skull the last of the bottle I'm sure I wouldn't be," Sally-Anne returns, picking her way unsteadily through the snow.

"Blame shifting," Harry says, "How un-Hufflepuff of you."

"That one's on you as well, for corrupting me," Sally-Anne tells him. "If you cover our tracks I'll consider forgiving you."

"You're not trying to make me hide the evidence of my own murder, are you?" Harry says.

"We're making snow angels," she says and casts a cushioning charm before letting herself fall backwards into the snow. "And angels wouldn't have footprints leading from the castle."

Harry waves his wand, not entirely sure of the spell he wants but trusting his magic to take care of it.

"You too," Sally-Anne insists.

Harry drops back into the snow but doesn't move his arms and legs like he can hear Sally-Anne doing. The stars are amazingly clear from the Scottish wilds where Hogwarts is located and even though he's been studying Astronomy every week for years now it still catches him off-guard every time he sees it.

"I don't like being champion," Harry whispers to the winter sky, "I'd rather have been just another student this year."

* * *

"The modified Bubble-Head Charm works," Harry says, resurfacing from the small lake Fred and George somehow managed to set up in an unused hall on the sixth floor. "Now it needs some sort of propulsion and steering system."

Hermione nods. "I've got a preliminary list of spells to try out."

Harry takes the sheet of parchment she offers and scans the options. "I'm not sure any of these will work," he says slowly. "It's got to be able to attach to the bubble and work independently from my wand since I'll need that free."

Hermione frowns. "The bubble isn't tangible. Unless you create some sort of shield between the water and air there won't be anything to attach to."

"But if it's tangible it can be burst," Harry points out, "And then Krum or Delacour could just send a finite incantatum at me and I'd be out of the running."

"There are ways to make charms unable to be removed except by the caster. That's at least sixth year material though."

"I still think intangible would be best," Harry argues, "Because it'd take a pretty special charm not to wear down under sustained spellfire, whether only I can remove it or not."

"We can have a look," Hermione says doubtfully, "Maybe there's a way to combine the bubble, propulsion and steering into a single spell and the whole complex can be intangible."

"It'd have to be tangible enough for me to control it without a wand," Harry reminds her.

Hermione sends him an irritated look. "Are you trying to make this impossible?"

"We've got over two months," Harry says with a grin, "And I want to do something impressive this time – we can't have people thinking Hogwarts isn't the best school out there."

"Alright," Hermione says long-sufferingly, although Harry can see the slightly manic gleam in her eye that only comes with a demanding academic challenge. "Let's go to the library."

* * *

"Sirius Black..." Harry says idly into the mirror. His godfather's been out of contact for the past three weeks and though it's far from the first time, things have been getting progressively more dangerous since they joined up with Dumbledore. Harry tells himself there's no need to worry but he still checks his mirror every chance he gets. "Sirius Black..."

Suddenly he gets a flash of his godfather's bloody face, his eyes alight with excitement. "Two minutes, Harry – _confr_-"

And Harry is left staring at his own stunned face. He carefully puts the mirror down and sinks his head into his hands. "That bloody _idiot_!" He has a lot more unflattering names for his godfather too but he just sighs rather than air them. Sirius can take care of himself.

Two minutes later he hears a small voice call, "Harry Potter!"

"Hey Sirius," Harry says, scrutinizing Sirius' face. He looks completely fine and Harry resolves never to trust appearances to tell him whether a wizard has been injured or not. "So what was all that about?"

Sirius grins, "I found a guy I was looking for. Long story. I'll tell you after the Tournament's over. What's new at Hogwarts?"

Harry's heard that too many times this year but he lets it go. "I know what I'm going to do for the second task, now I just have to work out how and hopefully master all the spells in time."

"Well?" Sirius says, "Don't just leave me hanging here?"

"It's kind of complicated," Harry says, "I don't know how to explain it properly. In essence, I'm trying to apply some of the charms used on brooms to a modification of the bubble-head charm that will encase my whole body. Of course since I'm applying charms to a charm it's not quite that simple."

Sirius gapes. "That's... I don't even know what that is. An ambitious project, definitely. You know there are easier solutions, right?"

"I know," Harry says, "But I want to do something Champion-worthy. I've got a couple backup plans in case I can't do this but they're pretty lame. Worst comes to worse and I'll just use the normal bubble-head. That'd be so embarrassing it'd probably be better to just not turn up though."

* * *

Harry has a splitting headache, his chest is throbbing and he's more than a little irritated. Moody has kidnapped him and stolen his wand and is now shooting stinging hexes at him again. Right before dinner too, and Harry's really hungry after a gruelling session with Flitwick who has started teaching him the basics of Occlumency.

Biting back an annoyed growl, he forcibly calms himself and tries to push his distracted thoughts away. _Don't think, don't think, don't think_, he chants to himself as fast as he can as if that will exclude all other thoughts from his head. It actually works fairly well. He is smugly pleased with himself only for a moment before he shoves the feeling away. _Concentrate... empty your mind_.

"Clearing your head won't do you any good. You're blocking off your senses too," Moody growls, "Come on, boy. Focus on the magic."

He hits Harry with another stinging hex for emphasis.

"Why are you even doing this again? Don't you remember last time you senile old bastard?" Harry complains in the general direction he's pretty sure Moody is in. "I'll give you a hint: it doesn't work." If the crazy ex-auror really did forget Harry is going to kill him. Over _three hours_ of stinging hexes sent at him and Moody still hadn't been convinced Harry wasn't going to have some sort of sudden enlightenment and know what the hell he was talking about.

"Respect your elders," Moody says from behind him as he's hit with another hex.

"Bloody hell," Harry groans. "You're impossible."

"It's not. You just have to put your mind to it. Feel."

"_Senile_," Harry mutters and then raises his voice to ask, "What does that even mean? How am I supposed to feel magic?"

"I heard that, boyo."

"Couldn't you answer the question?" Harry says. "Or better yet can't we just practise duelling?" He only realises his mistake when the words are already out of his mouth.

"Duelling? _Duelling_? Do you think a Death Eater is going to consent to a nice polite _duel_-"

"I get it, I get it," Harry interrupts, "Merlin, you've only used that speech on me a million times or so. I guess they're not kidding when they say the memory's the first thing to go."

He gets a stinging hex for his trouble.

* * *

"So what do you think?" Harry asks Theo. They're by the lake on the sixth floor, christened Weasley Pond after its creators, for a demonstration of Harry's progress.

Theo looks thoughtful. "It needs a lot of work."

"Of course," Harry says. "But we've got time."

"Enough time?" Theo says.

"It's hard to say. All this is very experimental – I don't know how long it will take," Harry says.

"If you can pull it off you'll have Charms Masters all over the world fighting to take you on as an apprentice. Even just with this prototype it's easy to see why you were chosen to represent the school. Diggory may have been the more obvious choice but he doesn't have your level of ingenuity. That said, you've still got an astronomical amount of work to do in order to finish it and I know you spend a significant proportion of your time with the professors..." Theo shakes his head.

"You don't think I'll get it done," Harry says.

"At this juncture it doesn't seem possible," Theo says. "What will you do in that case?"

"I've already got two backup plans although neither holds a candle to this one," Harry says. "I'm pretty sure Hermione's doing more research on that front but it doesn't matter since I won't need them."

Theo doesn't make a comment either way. "And the contract?" he asks.

"Is that really necessary?" Harry says. "I've only told people I trust."

"And they can tell the people they trust who tell the people _they _trust and... do you see where I'm going?"

"No matter what you think, Gryffindor doesn't equate to stupidity," Harry says. "But either way isn't it a bit late for these concerns? Anyone who knows I'm cheating has known for months. I think we'd already know if they decided to give me up."

"Better late than never," Theo insists.

* * *

"I did it!" Harry yells as he bursts out of the lake.

The hall is empty.

"When did Hermione leave?" Harry wonders, scratching his head. Then he shrugs it off. "Pack," he says, sweeping his wand over the scrolls and books scattered haphazardly around the place. They half-heartedly fly into a heap on top of his book bag but he's not bringing them with him so he just leaves them like that and trots off towards the kitchens. He missed dinner and he's _starving_.

"Tully!" Harry calls as he waltzes into the kitchens only to stop dead at the organised chaos that has over taken the place. "What...?"

"Master Harry Potter should be eating in the Great Hall with all of the other students," a house-elf scolds as she trots by balancing a trey of bacon above her head.

"Right," Harry says slowly. He leaves the kitchens and backtracks to the staircase, where the nearest windows are. The morning sun sparkles on the dewy grounds but it's not a sight he can really appreciate.

"I worked through the entire night _again_?" Harry murmurs to himself and then shakes his head; he's been spending too much time alone.

He goes down to the Great Hall which is nearly empty so early in the morning and plops himself in a seat opposite Hermione, who has her nose buried in a thick tome. "I did it," he announces.

Hermione blinks and looks up. "Harry?" Then his words seem to register as she visibly starts and eagerly says, "You did?"

"Yep! Now I just need a bit of practise controlling it – it's pretty similar to flying but completely different at the same time."

"Harry, you're alive!" Ron exclaims as he approaches the Gryffindor table, rubbing sleep from his eyes as though expecting Harry to be a dream.

"Brilliant deduction there Ron," Harry says dryly. "Are you always so insightful this early in the morning?"

"He's right, mate," Dean says, following behind Ron. "We've seen so little of you we were starting to believe those rumours that you pulled a runner, and we have class with you."

"Oh," Harry says dumbly.

"Well if it isn't the missing Champion, returned to us at last," Theo says, ignoring the none-too-subtle glares from Ron and Dean as he joins them. "Are you ready to look at the work Granger and I have been doing yet?"

"He finished it," Hermione says.

Theo blinks. "It seems your confidence wasn't misplaced after all. Still, three days is cutting it a bit close."

"Three days?" Harry echoes.

"Until the Tournament, dumbass," Ron says.

Harry chokes. "_Three days_? Are you joking?"

* * *

The whistle blows and Krum gets off the first spell. He's fast, far faster than Cedric, but Harry's been training with Moody and Flitwick and his reflexes have him leaping out of the way almost before he's registered the threat. There is a scream of pain from the official behind him but Harry doesn't dare turn. Fighting with two people is much more difficult than one, augmented by the fact that both Fleur and Krum are leagues better than any other student he has sparred with before.

Harry stays mostly on the defensive, partly because he _really_ does not want to be hit by one of Krum's curses and partly because he is slowly building up the Bedazzling Hex-Memory Charm combination Sirius taught him. Soon Fleur and Krum are solely focusing on each other and Harry slips into the lake, using his modified Bubble-Head Charm that really isn't anything like the original charm anymore. The last thing he sees is Fleur vanishing her robes, revealing a ridiculously skimpy bikini which makes the Bulgarian stumble right into her cutting curse.

It takes Fleur just over ten minutes to catch up to Harry and by this time he is half way to the merpeoples' village. She appears to be using Gillyweed an option Harry decided against because while it would allow him to move faster and more freely, he has yet to master silent casting.

A quick twist of his bubble allows Harry to narrowly avoid the trio of hexes she sends after him and he returns fire with a leg-locker and bombarda, the latter of which turns out to be rather ineffective underwater. As she snaps her wand around for another spell Harry catches sight of a thin trail of blood from her left arm, no doubt from the earlier duel, and has an idea.

They continue to duel and the first chance he has Harry casts a spell Hagrid gets a lot of use out of which mimics the smell of blood. Thankfully Fleur pays it no mind, perhaps assuming it to be miscast. Slowly but surely she is taking control of the fight. Harry is forced takes damage from a few slow-acting jinxes and minor curses whose effects he knows he can reverse later.

Then the first grindylow appears, lured from the lake weeds by the smell of blood. It grabs her from behind and Harry takes advantage of her distraction to hit her with a Bubble-Head Charm which in turn gives the rest grindylows the opportunity they need to swarm her and drag her away.

Though he feels rather bad, Harry wastes no time in propelling his bubble onwards, sure that the French witch won't be slowed for long. Other than the giant squid, which happily lets Harry continue after he sends a tickling charm at its tentacles, Harry encounters no obstacles the rest of the way to the merpeoples' village. There, in the middle of what appears to be their village square, are three boxes chained to wooden stakes. Harry pulls out the key he found in the golden egg and unlocks the chains to the first box before shrinking it and putting it in his pocket.

Unfortunately the other two locks do not appear to fit his key. For a moment Harry considers destroying the posts and taking the boxes but after a moment he just booby-traps them with a number of jinxes and covers them with an illusion of a neat bed of lake-flowers. He's just setting off for the surface when he a flash of movement in the corner of his eye makes him turn, only to see a shark barrelling straight towards him. Harry snaps off a stunner but it rolls out of the way and he realises that it's actually Krum with a shark head.

They trade curses and Harry has to resort to dodging most of what Krum sends at him since he's not yet good enough at recognising spell classes to be able to put up the right kind of shield in time. Luckily Krum doesn't seem to have adjusted to a shark's vision very well, leaving them fairly evenly matched.

This stalemate doesn't last long as Krum's experience and superior agility give him the advantage. It is only a matter of time before one of his curses hits home and when it does Harry can't help yelling out in pain as dozens of painful, shallow cuts erupt across his left side. Krum pauses for an instant to assess the damage he has caused but that is all Harry needs and he hits the Bulgarian with a Bubble-Head. Unlike his opponent he doesn't waste a second in pressing his advantage, Moody having trained his hesitation out him completely. He hits Krum with an impedimenta and then a Full-Body Bind before taking off.

As he shoots towards the surface Harry passes Fleur who looks rather worse for wear and, perhaps as a result, only sends a few half-hearted spells in his direction before continuing on the other way.

* * *

"Well that was embarrassing," Harry says as he sips a butterbeer at the party Gryffindor house has thrown in his honour.

"What are you talking about?" Neville says, "You kicked ass out there."

"I won completely on Krum and Delacour's mistakes," Harry says. "I wanted to get by on my own merit, not their lack of it."

"Isn't that the same thing? Either way you're better than them, so you deserved the win," Neville says.

"I'm not better than them though," Harry says with frustration. "Both of them were actually better than me but Fleur either didn't notice she was bleeding or was dumb enough not to realise what a bad move that was in a lake full of predators and Krum! Krum was just plain _stupid_. As far as duelling goes he was probably the best of the three of us but for some reason he handicapped himself by using partial self-transfiguration, which was a bad idea on so many levels I don't even know _where_ to start."

Neville raises his eyebrows. "Done?"

"Yes," Harry says sullenly.

"Feel any better?"

"A little."

"Seriously Harry, you need to relax. You've been working so much even _Hermione_ is worried about you and you just finished a task, placing you solidly in first place – it's time to take a break."

"I just feel... let down," Harry says with a sigh. "Like I put so much effort into getting ready for the task and with the showing they made they might as well have not prepared at all."

"Maybe that just goes to show you're doing too much," Neville suggests. "Weren't you just going to give it your best and take things as they come?"

"Yeah," Harry says, "But that was when I was first chosen. Now I actually want to win."

"I'm not saying you shouldn't try to win," Neville says. "You just have to remember that there's more to life than the Tournament."


	7. Fourth year – part III

Fourth Year: part III

Harry walks back to the castle, pondering what he learned of the third task. The maze will probably be unplottable but he'll get Sirius to teach him a mapping spell just in case it's not. Knowing Hagrid, the creatures he provides will be fanged, clawed and highly dangerous but having faced a dragon in the first task Harry isn't as concerned as he probably should be. Better than those tiny bugs in Australia that leave your mind and magic equally unstable, and are nearly impossible to detect until the symptoms of their venom start showing.

The spells though... they will be the real challenge. There is a nearly infinite range the designers of the maze can choose from so learning the individual counter curses is out of the question but breaking spells is not something that is taught at school. Sirius should be able to help with that, considering the experience he showed in Egypt. Maybe he can even write to Ron's older brother, the Curse-Breaker.

Just then Hedwig flutters down and Harry holds out his arm for her to land on. "Hey girl," he says, taking the scrap of parchment tied to her leg, "What have you got for me here?"

Hedwig hoots softly and he gently scratches her head before unfurling the letter and reading it.

_Dear Harry,_

_How about coming down for tea this afternoon 'round six? I've got some new critters you might find interesting. Won't say no more here. Tell you when I see you._

_Hagrid_

Harry grins. This makes things even easier. He briefly wonders if he should feel bad for cheating so much and then decides that no, he's just been spending too much time with Hermione and should really get out more.

"Remind me to do something nice for Hagrid," he says to Hedwig. "I think Sirius knows a guy who imports Nundus. What do you reckon?"

* * *

"Morning Harry," Sirius yawns as he walks into the kitchen. Then he nearly trips over himself as he whips around. "Harry!? What are you doing here?"

Harry grins. "Such a warm welcome. Careful Sirius, I'm pretty sure that's what Uncle Vernon said when I came home after first year."

Sirius shudders. "Don't even joke about that."

"I wasn't," Harry says. "I was being _serious_. And apparently you were being Vernon."

"For both our sakes I'm going to pretend you didn't say anything," Sirius says. "Anyway, why are you here?"

Harry has the decency to at least pretend to be embarrassed although he never stops grinning. "Can't I come over just to visit my godfather?" he says.

"No," Sirius says. He pauses and then asks, "Did you tell Dumbledore where you were going?"

"Well..."

"Harry," Sirius says with a sigh. "You can't just disappear from school like that."

"Anyone else could and it wouldn't be a problem," Harry says rebelliously. Sirius opens his mouth to say something and Harry continues loudly, "_But_ I did give Hedwig a note for Dumbledore to deliver at breakfast so if he doesn't know yet he will soon."

"I really don't know why you have such a problem with him," Sirius says.

"He doesn't control everything _you_ do."

"He's your headmaster."

"Exactly," Harry says darkly.

Sirius laughs and as always Harry can't help grinning even though he's trying not to. His godfather's laughter is infectious and the fact that it sounds like barking only makes it funnier.

"So anyway," Harry says, which only makes his godfather snigger some more. "The third task is a maze filled with all sorts of nasty beasts and enchantments. Considering your various professions I thought it'd be a prime opportunity for you to start pulling your weight as a godfather and make up for all those years you abandoned me by making sure I can survive it."

"Have I really been such a bad godfather?" Sirius asks, looking hurt.

"Yes," Harry replies bluntly. "Maybe if you bought some furniture for this place or heck, even got a few plates and bowls and some cutlery, I might be inclined to change my mind."

Sirius laughs, confidence fully restored. He ruffles Harry's hair and says, "You wouldn't care if you weren't so hopeless at conjuration. Let me grab something to eat and we can get straight to work."

Harry trails after Sirius complaining, "I shouldn't _have_ to conjure to conjure every single thing I want. Why do you think I never come home for the weekend?"

"Because you have friends?"

"Because this place isn't even half finished and the only furniture you have are the beds!"

"So you don't have friends?" Sirius says and then quickly adds, "It's nothing to be ashamed of, Harry. You can admit it; I'll still love you for who you are. I'll just think a bit less of you."

"And what are you planning to do about the plumbing?" Harry says, completely ignoring his godfather, "You can't hire anyone in to do it but you need a professional since the whole system probably needs to be replaced."

"Fine, fine, you win," Sirius says, wrestling Harry into a headlock and rubbing his knuckles into his hair. "I'll keep working on the place, but that'll have to wait until the Tournament is over now since you've appointed me your personal trainer."

Harry hits him with a stinging hex. Turns out those sessions with Moody were good for something after all.

* * *

"I fold," Neville says, placing his cards face down on the table.

"You always fold," Ron complains. "Come on Neville, take a risk for once. Are you a Gryffindor or are you a Hufflepuff?"

"I can't help it. I always have a bad hand," Neville says.

"Every hand is a good hand," Harry says, "You just have to know how to use it. Here, Creevey, look at my cards. What do you think I should do?"

"Raise," Colin says confidently.

"I raise," Harry says, pushing five more jelly beans into the centre of the table.

"Call," Ron says immediately, following suit.

"It's easy to see Ron thinks he can win," Harry says to Colin, "Trying to goad Neville into staying in, not hesitating at all before putting his own beans in, even after I raised – he definitely has something special to be so confident."

Seamus looks at Harry uncertainly and then at his cards before saying, "Fold."

"That's sabotage," Ron accuses. "He was going to match."

"Psychological warfare," Harry says smugly. "That's half of poker."

Ron grumbles but agrees and Dean looks at Harry with narrowed eyes. As the only other muggle-raised wizard he has a better idea of what poker involves and as such is having more success than Ron, Seamus and Neville.

"Fold," Dean finally decides.

"Alright. Let's see 'em," Harry says, laying out his cards face up.

Ron does the same and groans. "No way! You won the last five rounds too!"

"Which means if I win the next one you have to ask out Eloise Midgen," Harry says, grinning wickedly.

"Aw come on Harry, don't make me do that," Ron begs. "I only bet that because I thought it would be impossible to win seven games in a row."

"Don't worry Ron you still have one more chance to get out of it," Harry says.

"But you won't," Colin says, "'Cause Harry's not going to lose. He beat you on a Queen high before."

"Why are you here?" Ron says, scowling. He turns to Harry. "Why is he here? I thought it was supposed to be just the boys."

Harry shrugs, "I've given up on trying to stop him following me around. It's not so bad since I laid down some ground rules."

"He can stalk you in your own time but Ron's got a point, this is a boys' night," Seamus says.

"Just tell him to go do his homework," Dean says. "He does everything you say, right?"

"I'm right here," Colin says indignantly.

"Actually that reminds me – I have a favour I've been meaning to ask," Harry says to the third year, "If you're not too busy, that is. It's something only you can do."

"Me?" Colin says, "Really? I mean, of course I'm not too busy. What do you want me to do?"

"Rita Skeeter – the journalist, you know – keeps quoting things it should have been impossible for her or anyone else to hear. I didn't really care while she was just stroking my ego but now she's been going after my friends. I want you to use your investigative journalist skills to find out how so I can stop her. I'll even let you borrow my invisibility cloak as long as you promise to take good care of it."

Colin looks starry eyed. "I'll do my best," he promises earnestly.

* * *

"Potter?"

Harry turns to see Theo approaching their group. "Hey Theo," he says, "What are you doing down here?"

"I could ask you the same," Theo replies, "You don't do Care of Magical Creatures."

"I'm just visiting," Harry says airily. "Hey check this out: _HEEL_!"

All the blast-ended skrewts in the immediate vicinity rush towards them. Theo doesn't do Care of Magical Creatures but like the rest of the castle he has heard stories of the monsters and so leaps behind Harry with a frightened shout.

Harry bursts out laughing. "That was everyone else's reaction too! At least you have the excuse of being in Slytherin."

Theo tries to look dignified and stoic when all he wants to do is rub his forehead. "What have you done?"

Harry looks proud. "That's not all they can do. Watch-"

"_NO_!" Ron yells, jumping forwards and slapping his hand over Harry's mouth. The blast-ended skrewts make angry clicking sounds and shuffle around threateningly, prompting the redhead Gryffindor to back off again. "Erm, I mean, please don't?" he begs nervously.

Theo raises an eyebrow. Previously the Gryffindors had been content to hang back and let Harry embarrass him with only mildly hostile glares but now they all look as anxious as the Weasley. "Do I want to know?" he asks mildly.

"They attack on command," Ron explains with a shudder.

Theo blinks. "Anyway, I know we agreed you could cut back on the amount of preparation you do for this task but could you at least do _something_?" he says to Harry, bringing the topic back to his original reason for seeking out the Hogwarts Champion.

"What do you think this is?" Harry says, gesturing to the skrewts.

"Perhaps something a bit less... frivolous?" Theo suggests.

"Frivolous?" Harry says incredulously. "I'll show you frivolous! Skrewts! Att-"

"Harry!" Ron interrupts hastily, this time keeping a respectful distance between himself and the skrewts. "You agreed! No demonstrations until you can make them stop attacking too."

"Oh yeah," Harry says. He turns to Theo and says, "In any case, you don't need to worry about it. Where do you think I disappear to every weekend?"

"An unplottable hideout where none of the teachers can find you and force extra lessons on you?"

Harry gives him a suspicious look. "Have you been following me?"

* * *

"Not again you crazy bastard!" Harry says when Moody ambushes him after dinner and takes away his wand.

Moody guffaws as he levitates Harry down the hall towards the Defence classrooms. "It's your own fault," he says, "It shouldn't have been so easy to catch you. Why haven't you been using those detection charms I taught you?"

"This is _Hogwarts_," Harry says, "There are people everywhere."

"So?" Moody barks.

"So there's always someone outside the door or around the corner. I can't jump out, wand blazing, every time on the off chance that they're out to get me because ninety-nine out of a hundred times they're not!" Harry argues.

"That won't save you the hundredth time," Moody says darkly.

"Hogwarts' wards are enough to take care of any threat serious enough that I can't deal with it myself," Harry points out.

"Wards can be fooled," Moody growls ominously and conjures a blindfold over Harry's eyes.

"Dammit Moody!" Harry says, fruitlessly trying to pull it off. "Let me go!"

Moody sends a stinging hex at him. "You know the drill. Sense the magic."

"Just let me go," Harry says, "We both know this won't work."

Moody laughs. "Got your little bookworm friend on it did you?" he says, "What did she find out?"

"That this is useless," Harry says.

Moody hits him with another stinging hex.

"Hey!" Harry says. "You either can or you can't sense magic! It's not something that can be learned just by trying."

"But it can be developed," Moody says.

"Not on command!" Harry returns. "Some exceptional witches or wizards simply become more attuned to magic over time and start to be able to sense it."

"The Prophet has been calling you an exceptional wizard," Moody says.

"Okay I know for a fact that you don't read the Daily Prophet and besides, that's only because that Skeeter woman has some sort of creepy crush on me!"

Moody grunts in acknowledgement and changes tact. "You won't know until you've tried," he says.

"I've already told you that trying doesn't work! Everyone knows that and the lack of success I've had before just proves it in my case too," Harry says and yelps when another stinging hex hits him in the middle of his chest. "Fucking hell Moody! Let me go!"

* * *

"Apple," Harry says firmly.

Terry flicks his wand and the apple sitting on the table between the two becomes a sparrow. "Bird," he replies.

The sparrow cocks its head, hops a few times and then takes off. Harry trains his wand on it. "Cloak," he says and the bird turns to a black cloak which crumples to the ground.

"Daffodil," Terry says. Lisa Turpin picks up the bright yellow flower and presents it to Harry.

"Earmuffs," Harry says immediately, producing a perfect replica of the fluffy pink pair that Professor Sprout favours and setting them on the table.

Terry frowns and doesn't immediately respond.

"Five seconds," Lisa warns.

"Fan," Terry says as he transfigures the earmuffs into a blue and silver paper fan.

Harry narrows his eyes. He makes a complicated wand motion and the fan becomes a box wrapped in red paper and tied with a gold ribbon. "Gift," he says smugly and with a gesture of his wand the ribbon unties, the paper folds back and the box opens to reveal a griffon soft toy.

There are a few claps and whistles of appreciation from their audience. Terry's frown deepens. "Hat," he says and the griffon reform as the vulture hat Neville had his Snape-boggart wear in Defence earlier that year.

The crowd around them laughs except for one boy who pushes to the front and says, "Potter."

Harry looks up. "Theo," he says, "What brings you here?"

"You've done nothing for two months now. Don't you think it's time to start preparing for the third task?" Theo says.

"Don't be a spoil sport, Nott," Marcus Belby protests, "They're on their second alphabet."

"I wasn't speaking to you," Theo says dismissively, not taking his eyes off Harry.

"It's been more than ten seconds," Lisa says with an annoyed look at the Slytherin. "The game's already ruined."

Harry doesn't look happy either. "I had a really good one lined up for 'm' as well," he says.

"Tournament," Theo reminds him.

"I already told you I train on weekends," Harry says.

"But you won't say what you do," Theo returns.

"You're the one so paranoid about secrecy you won't let me tell anyone anything unless they sign a contract."

"Which I've signed. But you still won't say anything which makes me think you're not doing anything," Theo says.

"I don't care what you think," Harry says with a grin. "You didn't think I'd be ready for the last task and look how that turned out."

"Just give me something," Theo says. He glances around at the watching crowd and adds quietly, "To tell... the others. They're getting worried you're going to blow this on arrogance since you did so well on the first two tasks."

"Have some faith, Theo," Harry says, getting up and cuffing the other boy on the shoulder. He turns to the fourth and fifth years milling around and not even pretending they're not eavesdropping. "Alright, I'm adjudicating the next round. Who's up?"

Marcus steps forwards, "I am."

"Challengers?" Harry asks, pointedly ignoring Theo's glare.

"Lisa," Terry calls.

Lisa elbows him, "Shut up. You know I'm barely above average in Transfiguration."

"Which, in Ravenclaw, means a solid E," Harry says, rolling his eyes.

"Which Marcus beats in fifth year transfiguration," Lisa points out.

"So you should take the opportunity to practise," Terry urges.

"I'll go if you don't want to," Cho Chang offers when Lisa still looks uncomfortable.

"I'm not giving up on this," Theo warns Harry before leaving.

"That's not what it looks like from here!" Harry calls after him.

* * *

"Have you broken the spell yet?" Sirius asks as he walks into the room where Harry is trying to undo an area-based nausea curse.

"No," Harry say, running a frustrated hand through his hair and making it even wilder than normal. Then he sniffs the air and asks, "Did you get fish and chips for dinner?"

Sirius beams. "Yep. I've put Dumbledore's work on hold since I started training you so during school hours I've been taking odd jobs and we're in the black again." He taps himself with his wand, wordlessly applying the counter-spell to the curse and goes to the other end of the room where he conjures a table and lays out the food. "Some incentive to get through it a bit faster."

Harry doesn't look impressed. "I've only been working on this for ten minutes and you know the shortest time I've gotten before is thirty-seven minutes."

"You'll have to do it in seconds in the Tournament," Sirius says.

Harry raises an eyebrow. "_Accio_!"

Sirius grins smugly and says, "You didn't think I hadn't already thought of that, did you?"

"I had to try," Harry says. "Just like I have to try this: Dobby!"

The house-elf appears with pop. "Yes Master Harry Potter, sir?"

"Hey Dobby!" Harry says cheerfully, "Could you grab me some fish and chips off Sirius?"

Sirius never loses his smile. "Kreacher! Don't let Dobby get his hands on this food."

Kreacher shuffles into the room looking about as happy as Filch after a Weasley twin prank.

"Dobby! Retreat!" Harry calls quickly, knowing how vicious the Black family elf can be. "Fine, you win this one, Black."

Contrary to his normal reaction to Harry's use of his surname Sirius just smirks. "Get to work, Harry," he orders imperiously, propping his feet up on the table.

* * *

Harry is on his way to Hagrid's when he hears near silent footsteps rushing towards him from behind. He reacts on instinct, ducking and rolling as he whips off a leg-locker followed by a full-body bind and coming up in a crouch covered by a shield with his wand raised-

At Padma. Padma who is frozen, hit by both curses, although by the stunned look on her face even if he had missed she still wouldn't be moving.

"Oh," Harry says. He hastily removes the spells and says, "Er, sorry about that. Bad habit, you know."

Padma says, "Not really, no."

There is an awkward silence and then Harry asks, "So what were you doing here anyway?"

It's Padma's turn to look embarrassed. "I was going down to the library when I saw you. I thought I'd surprise you, but I guess that was a bad idea," she says.

"Yeah," Harry says, sheepishly scratching the back of his head. "I blame Moody. He's always ambushing me and dragging me off for 'training' even though I'm pretty sure it's just an excuse so he can shoot spells at someone when the teaching gets too frustrating."

"Either way it sure is effective," Padma says with a slightly shaky laugh.

"I really am sorry about that," Harry says. He gets a sly look on his face. "I could make it up to you by taking you out to Hogsmeade if you'd like."

Padma smiles and raises an eyebrow, back in territory she knows. "Are you going to attack me again if I say no?" she says.

"I'll promise not to attack you again if you agree," Harry offers.

Padma tilts her head to one side. "You can try," she says. "But you'd better have something impressive planned or you'll just make things worse for yourself."

Harry laughs. "I'm no Seamus!" He says. "Is Parvati still annoyed about that?"

"Are you really surprised?" Padma says.

"No," Harry says, "But she shouldn't be either. It's _Seamus_."

"Seamus can be charming; Parvati wouldn't go out with just anyone," Padma says. "But you should know that my standards are higher than hers."

Harry winks at her. "Don't worry. I wouldn't dare do anything but the best for a witch as pretty as you."

* * *

"Yield!" Cedric says, lowering his wand.

Harry grins. "Good match. You almost had me there with the water. You're getting really good at controlling it."

Cedric laughs ruefully. "Yeah, for all of two seconds before you froze it all. I was hoping that half a room full of water would be too much for you. That was an amazing freezing charm."

"I've had a lot of practise with the bandy craze this year. You don't want to spend half the game making sure the ice you're skating on is thick enough so you get it right or someone falls in. My warming and drying charms are excellent for the same reason," Harry says.

"I'm surprised how quickly that caught on," Cedric says. "Most muggle ideas don't but I suppose since the Quidditch pitch was commandeered for the Tournament people didn't know what else to do. You were one of the ones that started it, right?"

Harry shakes his head. "Nah, I came up with idea of freezing the lake to go ice-skating at the start of the year but the bandy was all Kevin Entwhistle. You should come down for a game some time. I know it's mostly fourth and fifth years but people are so shocked at the idea of hanging out with people outside their house that being in a different year isn't even worth blinking at."

"Maybe I will," Cedric says, "Although if you thrash me at that too I'm not sure my pride will be able to take it."

Harry laughs. "Actually I have something different I want to try out that'll have you wiping my ass all over the floor. See Moody's been giving my biweekly hand to hand combat lessons for most of the year but I've never had an opportunity to try it out except against him..."

"I'd love to help you out but I don't know any hand to hand combat," Cedric says.

"Not many wizards do," Harry says. "But my idea was that you get to use your wand and I don't. Obviously we'd have to set some limits or I'll be hopelessly outmatched but it's just for practise."

"Alright," Cedric says. "What sort of things were you thinking?"

* * *

"Rosie!" Harry sing-songs as he tugs a decidedly less than impressed Padma after him into the Three Broomsticks. "You don't mind if we use the back floo, right?"

Rosmerta looks up from the butterbeer she is pouring. "Corrupting innocent young girls?" she says. "You're turning out to be worse than your father."

"Stop it, you're making me blush," Harry says, grinning. He opens an unobtrusive door in the corner, revealing a cosy parlour, and calls over his shoulder, "Thanks Rosie!"

"Where are we going?" Padma asks apprehensively, no longer looking so annoyed now that she knows Harry wasn't planning on taking her out to the Three Broomsticks.

"You'll see," Harry says with a mischievous wink. "You remembered to wear muggle clothes underneath your cloak, right?"

"Yes," Padma says. "Are you sure this is okay? We're not allowed to go beyond the village."

"I won't tell if you don't," Harry says. "Come on Padma, don't you want to have a bit of fun?"

Padma hesitates but she's not trying to leave and it's enough for Harry.

"After me," he says and grabs a pinch of floo powder. "The Leaky Cauldron!"

Harry is a bit worried that Padma won't follow him but she tumbles out of the fireplace only seconds after him. "Harry!" she hisses, looking around the pub nervously, "What if someone recognises us?"

"Pull your hood up," Harry says, already flipping the hood of his cloak up to shadow his face. "Come with me, it won't matter in a minute."

Padma acquiesces and follows as he threads his way through the dingy pub, but only until she realises where they're headed. "_Muggle_ London?" Padma balks and grabs his arm to make him stop.

"Trust me," Harry says. "You won't regret it, I promise."

* * *

"What's the news?" Harry says as he sits down for breakfast with Seamus, Dean and Ron, the latter who is reading the Daily Prophet.

Ron shrugs. "Skeeter wrote _another_ article about how great you are. Seriously, what did you say to her? Normally she only writes about scandals and slander and that sort of stuff but with you..."

Harry frowns. "I have no idea. I only talked to her at the weighing of the wands and I was trying to get away as quick as possible to go back to practising for the dragon so I just spouted off a bunch of nonsense I thought she'd want to hear."

"Well whatever that was, it sure worked," Ron says. "I swear every edition of the Prophet since has had at least one article going on like you're the next coming of Merlin."

"Not that I don't appreciate the sentiment but I wish it would just stop. People are always looking at me weird now," Harry complains.

"Padma's been giving you weird looks all morning but I don't think you can blame that on the paper," Dean says.

"How bad was your date, honestly?" Seamus asks eagerly. "I don't think I've seen Padma acting like this before."

Harry laughs. "Don't get too excited there, Seamus; you still hold the prize for worst date ever. It actually went well yesterday."

"Really?" Dean says sceptically. "Are we talking about the same thing here? Your date with Padma? As in Padma the hottest girl in our year that no one with an ounce of sanity will ask out because she's impossible to please and has a vicious streak to rival a Horntail?"

"Best not say that too loudly," Harry says, "She's also the twin sister of Parvati who hears everything."

"I don't believe it," Seamus declares. "I bet it went worse than mine and Parvati's date and you're just trying to cover it up. Why else would she be looking over at you every two seconds? She's plotting your demise, mate."

"Hm," Harry says noncommittally. "Watch this then." He turns around and waves at Parvati who blushes and smiles before ducking her head away.

The other three boys' jaws drop.

"Wow," Dean says, looking at Harry with awe.

"I see why you were chosen for Champion," Seamus says reverently.

"Teach me, oh wise one," Ron begs.

* * *

"I thought you said the Slytherins decided to leave me alone until the Tournament was over," Harry complains to Theo during potions.

"You won't prepare voluntarily so we're just making sure you're ready," Theo says.

"I think the fact that none of the attacks have been successful proves that I've been doing fine on my own," Harry says.

"Krum and Delacour are better than your average student."

"They can also only shoot one spell at a time so you can tell the Slytherins to stop ganging up on me," Harry says. "Besides, you purebloods have a habit of being trained in duelling so don't pretend like you're all harmless little angels."

"Think of it as incentive to do some work," Theo says, "After all, from what you've told me, Krum and Delacour won't be a problem so much as the creatures and spells you'll encounter in the maze."

"So attacking me isn't really the useful preparation you pretend it is," Harry says.

"Incentive to prepare," Theo says.

"Why couldn't you try bribery instead?" Harry says, "I'd be a lot more open to it. I'm short on cash but I'll also accept plumbing lessons."

"Plumbing lessons?" Theo echoes.

Harry shrugs. "Don't knock it 'til you try it."

"Is that another muggle phrase?" Theo says distastefully.

"Don't _criticise_ it until you've tried it," Harry says.

"Wait," Theo says, blanching, "When you talk about plumbing...?"

"I don't even want to know what you're thinking," Harry says. "I'm talking about pipes and taps and stuff. I want to know everything about it so I could theoretically install a house's plumbing from scratch."

"Why?"

Harry looks at him like he's stupid. "I want to become a plumber."

"You're a good liar but you suck at making up lies," Theo says.

"Why does it matter? I want to learn plumbing and you want me to train for the Tournament, ergo find someone who can give me what I want and you'll get what you want."

"No one in Slytherin is a plumber."

"So?" Harry says, "You're supposed to be all cunning and resourceful. Work something out."

* * *

Harry is not in a good mood when Flitwick dismisses him after his Occlumency lesson. The diminutive professor assures him he's making excellent progress but the fact is he's months from being able to use Occlumency practically at all, let alone in the middle of a fight. The blinding headache he has isn't helping things either.

When he gets back to the Gryffindor Common Room he goes straight up to bed even though it's only eight thirty, not wanting to talk to anyone. As he walks into the fourth year boys' room a soft skittering sound makes him whirl around, wand raised, with a spell at the tip of his tongue.

"_Stu_—" Harry cuts himself off just in time to stop stunning Ron's pet rat, a move that would have been lethal to so small a creature. "Scabbers," Harry sighs and shakes his head. "I have _got_ to stop doing that."

He tosses his wand on his bedside table and sits down on his bed with a sigh, massaging his temples. Two days to the third task and he's reasonably confident with his ability to deal with any of the 'obstacles' in the maze but if he runs into Delacour or Krum he's screwed.

The bed spread crinkles and Harry looks over to see Scabbers has climbed up on the bed. The rat doesn't move, nose twitching as he scents the air. He takes one step forwards and Harry holds out his hand to the rat. "C'mere Scabbers," he coaxes. "You want a jelly bean?"

Scabbers only hesitates a moment longer before scurrying over to Harry who picks him up. "Good boy," Harry starts to say only to be stopped midsentence when the rat abruptly turns into a stout man.

Before he knows what has happened, Harry finds himself knocked backwards and pinned down by the Scabbers-man. He struggles instinctively but the older wizard is two steps ahead of him and the last thing he sees is the red flash of a point blank stunner.

* * *

Harry wakes up when someone slashes a knife down his arm. He tries to yell in pain but only manages a croaky groan. His eyes blink open only to find an unknown man's face inches from his own and he comes to the unpleasant realisation that he can't move. He's upright, tied to something uneven, hard and cold. But of even more concern is the nasty, crawling feeling in the air like bugs under his skin which Harry thinks, and hopes against hope he is wrong, can be attributed to dark magic.

As the man pulls back Harry sees a glass vial full of blood and a bloody knife clutched in his hand and puts two and two together. His blood. He is also able to get a look around for the first time. They are in a graveyard so he's most likely bound to a headstone, and nearby is a cauldron as tall as a first year that is blazing an eerie red colour.

The wizard strides over to the cauldron and Harry notices he's left arm ends in a raw, bleeding stump. "B-blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe," he intones in a shaking, reverent voice as he pours Harry's blood into what is presumably a potion.

The feeling of dark magic intensifies and Harry instinctively knows that whatever is coming is infinitely worse than the situation he's already in. _Focus_, he tells himself, concentrating on the few Occlumency exercises he can manage. He has to get free but without a wand he is helpless.

"Think, Potter," he growls at himself. He's panicking and it's really not helping anything. The potion has turned a white that burns through his retinas even with his eyes clenched shut. Then it comes to him. The trump card he uses to get away from Sirius when he goes from harsh teacher to sadistic godfather who needs a good hexing.

"Dobby..." Harry breathes, opening his eyes. There is a soft pop but Harry can't look away from the potion which has stopped glittering and abruptly gone dark. It would almost seem like nothing was happening if the magic in the air, which is suddenly so clear in his senses, wasn't growing and twisting and boiling in sickening patterns. "Take me home."

* * *

"This, Harry, is a pensieve," Dumbledore says, gesturing to the ornate stone bowl he has brought with him to St. Mungo's. His face is grave and his blue eyes aren't twinkling and for the first time Harry finds it no stretch of the imagination to believe that this was the man who defeated Grindelwald. "It is used to examine thoughts and memories."

"You want to see what I saw in that graveyard," Harry says. It's a day after the scheduled date for the third task and this is the first time he's woken up long enough – and been coherent enough – to have a proper conversation. By the look on the healer's face he would have postponed the meeting if given the choice.

Dumbledore inclines his head. "And the events that led to your abduction," he confirms.

"How does it work?" Harry says.

"Are you agreeing to show me your memories?" Dumbledore asks.

Harry hesitates. "I'd like to know what it involves first."

"There is a spell which removes memories from your head for exactly this purpose. It can only be used by an Occlumens. In your case I believe you are proficient enough in the craft to do it yourself, but if not I can perform it for you," Dumbledore says. "The memory is then deposited in the pensieve where it can be viewed by a third party at their leisure."

"You mean anyone in the street can go around taking peoples' memories if they know Occlumency?" Harry says, alarmed.

"Not as such. The spell requires the cooperation of the owner of the memory," Dumbledore says.

"Right," Harry says. "Well if I can do the spell myself I'll let you look at my memories, but Sirius has to go with you and you have to tell him whatever you learn from them."

Dumbledore's grave expression gains an element of sadness to it and he says, "I am sorry that you trust me so little as to feel the need for these stipulations."

"It's nothing personal, sir," Harry says uncomfortably, "I'd feel the same way about letting anyone in my head. Will the poli– aurors want to look at my memories too?"

"It is possible, but unlikely," Dumbledore says. "Pensieves are very rare and while the Department of Magical Law Enforcement does have possession of one, it is only used for the most delicate or complicated cases."

Harry takes a deep breath. "Okay. Let's get this over and done with then."

* * *

"So what do the rumours have to say about all this?" Harry says. It's been three days since he first awoke and he's had to talk with a seemingly endless line of aurors, tournament officials, healers and government workers. Now, thankfully, the most important people seem to have been satisfied and his friends are finally allowed to visit.

"Oh all kinds of things," Lavender says, her eyes sparkling. "Of course there are some idiots who think you staged the whole thing to get out of the third task but most people agree you were kidnapped."

"No one can agree on the reason behind the kidnapping though," Parvati says, "There's all sorts of theories flying about. Obviously there's a lot of suspicion on Beauxbatons and Durmstrang and the foreign ministries."

"Krum and Delacour actually helped smooth things over a little since they refused to go ahead with the the third task when you first disappeared and everyone was thinking you ran away so you wouldn't have to compete," Lavender says. "It also made a lot of other people mad though."

"What really happened?" Ron says. "After you came back the aurors were asking all kinds of questions about _Scabbers_ of all things."

"Actually, I don't really know," Harry says. It's only a partial lie but he still feels guilty and makes a note to tell the lanky redhead the truth when there are less people listening in. "The last thing I remember before being kidnapped was of Scabbers turning into a man who stunned me but I could have been drugged. No one will tell me anything. They just ask more questions. When I woke up though, I was in a graveyard and a man – not the one who stunned me – took some of my blood for a ritual or potion or something. Dumbledore had a look at my memory of it and he reckons it was one of Voldemort's followers resurrecting him but no one else will believe a word of it."

"What do you think?" Neville asks.

"I don't know," Harry says, running a hand through his hair. "I really, really hope not but Dumbledore, whatever else he might be, is probably the most genius wizard in the past two centuries and he was the only one that looked at the memory – everyone else just dismissed it out of hand."

"Is that even possible?" Terry asks, "I didn't think you could really _properly_ raise the dead."

"It's Voldemort. Who's to say if the normal rules of magic apply to him," Harry says.

* * *

Theo knocks on the door to Harry's room at St. Mungo's but doesn't come in. "The truce is over," he says.

"Aw, come on, I thought we bonded enough that you guys could get over whatever you had against me in the first place," Harry says. "Actually now that you mention it, why didn't Slytherin like me?"

Theo's face remains closed off. "You will also have to find a new partner for potions."

"Theo?" Harry says, his brow crinkling with worry. "What's wrong?"

"Goodbye Potter," Theo says.

"What? Hey! Come back here! What was that all about?" Harry calls after the retreating Slytherin who never once hesitates or looks back. "What the hell just happened?" he says to himself.

"Look what we have here Gred!" Fred says, sweeping into Harry's hospital room and startling him out of his thoughts.

"Ickle Harrykins brooding all on his lonesome," George says dramatically.

"He's growing up, our boy is," Fred says, wiping fake tears from his eyes.

"It seems like just yesterday he was an innocent, wide-eyed firstie—"

"And now he's an angsty youth, and mixed up with Dark rituals to boot—"

"We're so proud of you!" the twins say together, each pinching one of his cheeks.

"Gah! Get off me you prats!" Harry yelps, swatting their hands away. "I wasn't angsting!"

"Oh, so we don't need to cheer you up by telling you what we've been plotting for the past year?" George says innocently.

"That's a shame. Well then, we'll just leave you with these custard creams—"

"Homemade, I'll add," George interjects.

"—And be on our way," says Fred.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Harry says. "You know, I _am_ feeling pretty sad now that you mention it. It's even worse than you think since the French witch I sort of had a thing with left without even saying goodbye." He adopts a tragic expression.

"French witch?" George questions.

"We didn't hear anything about this," says Fred, looking put out.

"You're not just making this up, are you?" George says suspiciously.

"We had to keep it a secret since she was, you know, with the enemy," Harry says dramatically. "That's why I never asked Padma out again. But don't make me talk about her – it's still too raw."

"Our poor Harrikins," Fred says, wiping a false tear from his eye.

"Spurned in love," George sighs.

"Don't worry, we have the perfect pick me up," says Fred, offering Harry one of the custard creams they brought.

"Just one part of our masterpiece," George says, "Something we call Weasleys' Wizard Weezes!"

Harry examines the custard cream, "Does it have anything to do with the magic in this?" he asks.

"Go on," says Fred.

"Try it," says George, not answering the question.

Harry takes a bite just as a healer sweeps into the room and says, "It's time for your daily check—great Merlin! Who is responsible for this? You are in no condition to be messing around with self-transfiguration!"

Fred and George look between the giant canary sitting on Harry's bed and the incensed healer.

"Would you look at the time?" says George.

"Much as I'd love to finish this conversation," says Fred, edging out of the room.

"We really have to run!" George finishes as they make good on their word and flee down the corridor.

* * *

"Mr Potter?" a healer says, poking his head in the door, "Your uncle is here to take you home."

"Really?" Harry says doubtfully.

A man Harry has never seen before strides into the room and cheerfully says, "Hello Harry!" He turns to the healer and says, "Just give us a moment, would you?"

"Don't forget to sign out on your way out of here," the healer reminds them before leaving.

Harry grips his wand and gets ready to move. "Who are you?" he says.

Instead of answering the man turns into a large black dog and then back into a person. "I think that's a question best not answered too loudly in public," he says with a grin and a wink.

Harry gapes. "Sirius?"

"Quietly," Sirius reminds him, glancing out the open door.

"Sorry," Harry says, jumping out of bed and prodding his godfather's cheek. "But how? This isn't an illusion and even a true master would struggle with this level of self-transfiguration."

"Polyjuice Potion," Sirius says. "Look we can and will talk more later. I've got a lot to fill you in on but let's get somewhere safe first."

"Home?" Harry says hopefully.

"Just for tonight and then you have your obligatory two weeks at the Dursleys. There's something going on that I didn't think you'd want to miss," Sirius says mysteriously. He casts an eye around the room which is covered in open books and scribbled on parchment and says, "What's with all this? The Tournament's over and you missed out on exams."

"I finally figured out how to get rid of the Trace," Harry says smugly. "The one good thing about being stuck in hospital was that I couldn't get distracted because I couldn't to do anything else."

"Nice," Sirius says. "Are you going to give the Dursleys the hexing they deserve then?"

Harry rolls his eyes. "They're not that bad," he says. "Well actually they are, but I'm more interested in using magic for my own benefit. As tempting as it is, messing with them would be more trouble than it's worth."

"So mature, so responsible," Sirius says despondently as Harry casts a silent packing spell. "It's a good thing I have all summer to work on you."

* * *

Harry looks down over the room through the small rectangular mirror Sirius mounted in the corner. Witches and wizards of all ages and descriptions mingle there, some he recognises and some he doesn't. Sirius is stiffly conversing with Lupin who reportedly returned to England when Harry disappeared. Moody, Vance, Diggle, Mundungus, Podmore and a few others he knows have been working for Dumbledore since at least last summer but other like Molly and Arthur Weasley are clearly new.

Finally Dumbledore comes in followed by Snape and Moody, the latter of whom has resigned from his teaching post in order to better combat Voldemort. The gathered witches and wizards cease their conversations and settle in the numerous chintz armchairs Dumbledore conjured earlier. Even though half the people there probably don't even know he lives here Harry is vaguely embarrassed by the clearly unfinished state of the house.

"Greetings my friends," Dumbledore says, "Thank you all for making the time to be here this evening and even more for committing yourselves to the fight against the Dark Lord Voldemort. Now, without further ado, I would like to open the first meeting of the newly reinstated Order of the Phoenix."


	8. Fifth Year – part I

Fifth Year – Part I

* * *

"YOU!" both Harry and Vernon shout in unison at the sight of their visitor.

"Me," Remus agrees quietly with a small, uneasy smile.

"How do _you_ know him?" Harry says incredulously, looking at his uncle.

"GET THE HELL OUTTA MY HOUSE," Vernon bellows at the same time.

"Vernon," Petunia says with an odd edge to her voice. "He says he wants a word with the boy."

Vernon splutters. "Don't you remember what happened last time he was here? Well we haven't done _anything_ to the little freak. We've almost treated him as well as Dudley—" he rounds on Remus suddenly, "And if you think I'm going to let you threaten me in my own home again you're _bloody _mistaken!"

Remus spreads his hands placatingly. "I apologise for my behaviour that night; I was not myself. I promise that nothing of the sort will occur again. I just want to speak with Harry," he says.

Harry is looking between the three adults with an agape expression. "What the hell is going on between you people?" he says.

They ignore him. "Fine," Vernon snarls. "You have five minutes."

He and Petunia march out of the kitchen and Harry immediately pulls out his wand. With the Dursleys gone the werewolf relaxes slightly, disregarding the new threat to his wellbeing. He smiles gently at Harry who just tightens his grip on his wand and stares back warily.

"You really have a talent for leaving old acquaintances pissed with you," he remarks. "What was that all about?"

"I came to check on you when you'd first been left with them. It was right after I, ah, ran into Sirius," Remus says, wincing.

"Oh, you mean that time you attacked him with legilimency to make him think I was dead and then tried to send him back to Azkaban?" Harry asks coldly.

"Yes. After that I came here to make sure you were okay. My temper was already short and when I discovered their attitude towards magic, towards _you_," Remus sighs. "I snapped. I described quite graphically all the things I'd do to them if I ever found out they'd mistreated you and, well, I pushed them around a bit to show I was serious."

Harry blinks. "Huh," he says, looking almost impressed. "Thanks, I guess."

"Of course. Any time, Harry," Remus says, creepily earnest. "But I fear I've done you far more wrong than such a small thing can ever make up for. That's why I came here, actually. I want you to know how sorry I am. If I'd had any idea of the truth, of the repercussions of my actions I would have _never_ done what I did. I know I don't deserve it but I can only beg for your forgiveness."

"Okay," Harry says uncomfortably. "That's enough. It's fine. I believe you, and forgive you and all that. But you know I'm not the one you should be apologising to, right? I mean it was Sirius' brain you fucked around with."

"I know, but I still can't get within a hundred meters of him without him trying to curse my face off," Remus says.

"I can't say I'm surprised. I don't really talk about all that heavy stuff with him but it's obvious he was messed up bad by it." Harry shrugs. "Give it time. Half the reason he's so angry is because he still thinks of you as a friend. If you wait long enough he'll probably get over it. Well, maybe. He can hold a grudge like a champion."

Remus smiles fondly as if it's an endearing trait. "I know. But I'm heading off to live with the werewolves up north and I don't know when I'll be able to come back. Will you tell him that I regret nothing more than what I did that night, and that to pay back the debt I owe him I will do _anything_ he asks?"

"You know, you're a really intense person, Lupin," Harry says looking a bit disturbed.

"Please," Remus begs.

Harry scratches the back of his head. "Look, I don't think that's a good idea. You two need to sort out your issues on your own. I'm playing Switzerland, or was it Sweden? I always get them mixed up; muggle history isn't really my forte. Either way, I'm not getting involved."

* * *

Evening is falling and Harry is heading back to the Privet Drive munching on the burger he bought in lieu of family dinner with the Dursleys. It's a bit cold out, especially for a summer night, but he doesn't think anything of it until he feels ice prickling against his skin and sees his breath ghost in the air.

"Twins?" Harry calls, looking around suspiciously and frowning to himself. Their pranks tend to be funnier than this but he can't think of anyone else it could be. Except maybe a Death Eater with a flair for the dramatic. Harry considers the possibility for a moment and then dismisses it; surely Voldemort wouldn't accept any wannabe minions with more drama than practicality. He fumbles with his burger and pulls his wand out anyway since he's feeling irrationally scared, though he tells himself it's for vigilance.

It's cold enough that his fingers are starting to go numb and it feels like there is a shadow falling over his heart. Two shadowy wraiths appear at the end of the alley. "Oh," Harry says, feeling hopelessly stupid. There is an overwhelming sense of dread taking over his mind. He is such a banshee-cursed _idiot_.

The dementors drift closer and Harry shakes his head to clear it. "Right. Of course. Happy thoughts," he reminds himself as he pulls out his wand. "_Expecto Patronum!_"

The silvery stag bursts forwards and drives the two dementors away and it is as though all the colour rushes back into the world. With the fear gone Harry is only left with embarrassment at how long it took him to realise what was happening, especially considering all his previous experiences with the soul-sucking bastards.

It's not as though he was expecting to run into dementors in the middle of suburbia, he justifies to himself. He didn't even know there _were_ dementors just wandering around wherever they wanted.

"That just doesn't seem safe," Harry mutters to himself, his brow furrowed, as the dementors disappear around the corner. While they couldn't give away the existence of magic since muggles couldn't see them, surely they were dangerous enough that the Ministry would want to regulate them.

Harry shrugs and stuffs the last of his burger in mouth before wiping his hands off on his jeans. "Oh well. Good thing I finally managed to block the trace..."

* * *

"Okay, time to clear out Harry. The Order's meeting starts in half an hour and people are going to start arriving any minute now," Sirius says, breezing into the kitchen. He wrinkles his nose at the sight of his godson prodding at an antique music box with his wand and muttering under his breath. "Still trying to un-curse all my family's heirlooms? I don't know why you're wasting your time. Just throw them in storage with the rest of the junk we cleared out from this place."

"I know you get grumpy seeing anything that reminds you of your childhood but you did say I could do what I want with all that stuff," Harry reminds him patronisingly.

Sirius sniffs. "I thought you were interested in the things you could actually use. Not the ones that'll turn you as batty as my dear mum just for looking at them."

"Go talk to a shrink about it Mr Psychologist's-wet-dream," Harry suggests, getting to his feet and packing up the various knick-knacks laid out on the table. "Don't forget to save me some of whatever Molly makes tonight. I'm going to head over to the Weasleys'. Fred and George said they have something new to show me."

"What, again? You've practically spent your whole summer with those two. Sure you don't want to hang around here and listen in?"

"Tried that already," Harry says. "I thought the whole 'secret society' thing meant you'd be talking about, I don't know, something exciting maybe. But since it doesn't I'll just count on you to keep me updated on the interesting two percent of the meeting. Catch you later, Sirius."

"I feel so used," says Sirius, adopting a tragic expression.

"Yeah, whatever, I practically rebuilt your bloody house just because you didn't like the decor, I cook dinner most nights – _even when it's your turn_ – and the number of times I've patched you up after your little 'errands' for Dumbledore..." Harry says, grabbing a handful of floo powder and throwing it in the fire. "The Burrow!"

Harry tumbles out of the fire in the Weasleys' living room, knocking Ron into the coffee table as he does.

"Sorry about that," Harry says as he waves his wand to move the table back in place.

"Oh hey Harry," Ron says, rubbing his shin.

"Alright?" Harry asks.

Ron shrugs. "Can't complain. I'm heading down to the village to pick up some groceries for Mum if you want to come."

"Maybe next time. I've got some stuff to sort out with the twins," Harry says vaguely, waving his hand around in a gesture that could mean anything. "Want to play Quidditch when you get back though?"

"Do you even have to ask?" Ron says, looking eager. "It'll just be us though. Ginny's off at a friend's place and you know that nothing'll drag the twins from their room these days. What are they doing anyway?"

Harry not so subtly avoids the question by pretending he didn't hear it. "That's okay. We can brush up on your Keeping skills again. By the end of this summer you should be a shoo-in for the team for sure."

"D'you really think so?" Ron asks, predictably forgetting all about his curiosity.

Harry shrugs. "Well, maybe. I don't pay a whole lot of attention to the reserve team so it's hard to say."

"Oh." Ron looks disappointed for a minute and then cheers up again. "Hurry up and do whatever it is with the twins so we can practise. This is my best chance to get on the team since they'll probably start training up one of the younger years to take over for McLaggen if I don't make it."

"Actually I wanted to have a word with your dad first. Is he around?"

"Over here, Harry," Arthur calls, coming down the stairs. "What can I do for you?"

"Two things," says Harry. "First of all, are you free this weekend?"

Arthur frowns pensively. "I'll have to check but I think I've got Order business on Saturday. Sundays are usually free though. Did you want to work on the car again?"

"Yeah, if you've got time. I'm pretty sure I worked out what the problem is," Harry says.

Ron scoffs. "Sure. That's only the fiftieth time you've thought so. Why do you keep wasting your time trying to 'fix' the car? It works fine as long as you don't take it out for more than an hour or two. Which no one ever does."

"Isn't there something you're supposed to be doing?" Harry says pointedly.

Ron sticks up his finger at him as he leaves the room. Unfortunately it is just as Molly enters the room.

"RONALD WEASLEY," she shrieks and then loses her train of thought when she spots her husband, "Arthur! There you are. I hope you're ready; we're going to be late if we don't leave now!"

"Of course, dear," Arthur agrees.

"I just need my travelling cloak, and where on Earth did I leave my wand? I had it just a moment ago," Molly says, sweeping away as quickly as she came.

Harry sends a furtive glance after her. "I was also thinking of bringing Sirius' bike over," he says quietly. "It'd be great to be able to compare the enchantments on the two."

Arthur's eyes light up. "Brilliant idea! I've always wanted to know how the muggles keep those things from falling over. And it will be fascinating to see what enchantments Sirius used..." he trails off for a moment, looking starry eyed at all the possibilities before he comes back to himself and clears his throat. "Although perhaps it would be best if you could bring it round Saturday morning when Molly is out at the local farmers' market."

"Gotcha," Harry says just as Molly rushes into the room again. "I'll see you later Arthur, and you Molly."

"Of course, Harry dear," Molly says distractedly. "I'm sorry I couldn't spare a moment... What _have_ you been doing, Arthur? We're going to be late."

Harry grins fondly as he heads up the stairs to the twins' room, taking the opportunity to waterproof his robes. The last time he visited they were trying to create a portable lake based on the permanent one they'd created for him the year before and he'd fallen in when he jumped out of the way of the boxing glove prank they'd attached to their doorway.

* * *

It's just past eleven on September the first and Ernie and Justin are dragging their trunks down the corridor of the Hogwarts Express, looking for a compartment. Ernie had actually been early – it was important to make a good impression since he was a prefect now – but after helping a few first years get settled and running into Justin he'd lost the advantage of punctuality and is now stuck dodging other students, doing his best not to hit anyone with his unwieldy luggage, while trying to find someone he knows to sit with.

"Justin, Ernie," a voice calls and the two Hufflepuffs look up to see Harry leaning out the door of one of the compartments further down the train. "Over here."

"Harry, hey, how was your summer?" Ernie puffs, struggling with his trunk.

"Great. And yours?" says Harry, levitating the heavy piece of baggage with a swish and flick of his wand and floating it into the compartment.

Ernie barely has time to feel a flash of embarrassment for not thinking of that when he's struck dumb by the sight of at least a dozen fifth year Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs are all comfortably seated inside with plenty of room to spare. Behind him Justin is equally shocked although less speechless. "What the...?" he says. "Did you do this or are all the compartments this big now?"

"Oh right," says Harry. "Nah, it's just us. Hermione and I were comparing notes on space expansion charms; I've only ever used them incorporated into permanent wards before. This one's temporary so it was a lot easier to put up but it's a completely different process."

"It's not going to pop on us, is it?" Justin says suspiciously.

"Relax. It'll be good for a couple days if we did it properly," Harry says not very reassuringly. "Come on in."

"Where are all the Slytherins?" Ernie asks. Due to Harry's influence most of their year-group has gotten used to consorting with people from all the Houses, some more willingly than others. Ernie likes to think he is fairly open-minded and has made quite a few non-Hufflepuff friends in recent years.

Harry frowns. "Not talking to anyone outside their house. Any of them. They're all holed up together down the end of the train. It's weird."

"Maybe it's because Voldemort's back," Seamus says with a grin and about half the group laughs while the others look uncomfortable and a bit worried.

"Maybe it's a disease," says Dean. "Slytherinitis. Definitely sounds nasty; I'd hide in shame if I had it too."

"Nah I'm pretty sure they all had that already. Symptoms include generally sliminess and an ego bigger than the moon. Diagnosis is confirmed upon sorting," Anthony says.

"Hey they're not all bad," Ernie protests. "Daphne—"

"Is playing your dumb ass because she's too stupid to even pass Herbology without your help," Zacharius says. "Mate, you've got to realise—"

"Ernie's right, actually. The Slytherins that don't have sticks up their asses generally have a pretty wicked sense of humour," Harry interrupts before they can rehash that old argument, "Have you ever talked to Miles Bletchley? Funniest guy I know after the twins."

"Miles Bletchley?" Terry repeats dubiously. "Didn't he put some sixth year in the hospital wing for a month last year?"

Harry makes a face. "Well, yeah, I'm not saying he's a nice guy but he's got it bad for Patricia Stimpson – seriously, he'd do absolutely anything to get her approval. Last year we convinced him he needed to understand muggle culture for her to like him so we took him down to Elgin for some firsthand experience. Funniest day of my life. At one point we ran into some crazy old homeless guy trying to sell the whole flower power and free love thing, and had to try to explain what a hippy was."

The muggle-raised laugh while most of the others just look confused, prompting a convoluted, highly detailed and wildly incorrect explanation of 1960s counterculture and what, exactly, being a hippy entails.

* * *

Harry whistles cheerfully as he heads towards Gryffindor Tower late Saturday afternoon. It's a good day – second weekend back at Hogwarts so there's no homework that can't be put off for later, the weather is warm and sunny, and Mandy Brocklehurst let him get his hands up her shirt before she decided she didn't want to go any further.

"Mimbulus Mimbletonia," Harry says to the Fat Lady with a grin and a wink that makes her giggle and blush as she swings forwards.

There aren't many people in the common room which isn't a surprise – this sort of day is all too rare in the Scottish highlands and no one wants to waste it. Neville's over in the corner though, sitting with a blonde girl Harry doesn't recognise.

"Hey Harry," Neville says cautiously as he approaches them. "This is my friend Luna. Luna, this is—"

"Harry Potter," Luna says dreamily, not paying the slightest bit of attention to Neville. "Everyone has been talking about you since you were chosen for the Tournament, you know. Of course it got much worse after you disappeared and the last task had to be cancelled. Padma says you ran away because you couldn't handle the pressure but I think she's just upset because you took her on a date and she liked you and then you said you didn't want to go out with her."

Harry blinks and looks over at Neville who has an expression that is caught between apology and warning. "Nice to meet you Luna," he says after a pause because it's good to see Neville showing some backbone even if it's totally unnecessary since Neville knows he's going after Mandy and while Luna's not ugly, the combination of her arched eyebrows and slightly too wide eyes make her look constantly surprised which is a bit off-putting. Plus, she doesn't seem to be completely _there_.

Although come to think of it Mandy is more than a few crayons short of a box and that hasn't deterred him in the least. Still, he's not Dean Thomas and Neville knows it so his lack of faith is a bit disheartening. Maybe he's just that into Luna which would be odd because he's fairly sure Neville's never spoken to the girl before.

"You've got an infestation of giblestarps," Luna says to Harry.

Harry blinks, his thoughts completely derailed. "Excuse me?"

"On your left elbow," Luna clarifies. After a moment of silence in which Harry struggles to find an appropriate reply she adds, "They're usually repelled by bad dancing."

A sideways glance at Neville reveals the other boy is just as nonplussed.

"So, uh, what are you up to?" Neville says to Harry after a beat.

"I was thinking of going down to see Hagrid in a bit," says Harry, trying not to stare at Luna. "He's really excited about some new fertilizer he got. You should come down – that's more your thing than mine. You're more than welcome to come along too," he adds to Luna.

She smiles serenely. "That's very kind of you to say. I don't think anyone's ever invited me to go somewhere with them before."

"Huh," says Harry. That explains Neville's unusual behaviour. He makes up his mind to encourage Luna to hang around Neville more often; maybe having someone to stand up for will teach Neville to stand up for himself.

* * *

Harry is on his way to History of Magic with Su Li and Kevin Entwhistle when out of the blue he drops his books, whirls around and yells, "_Protego_! _Pulvisseri_!"

A spell splashes against his shield and then a wave of dust explodes down the corridor and collides with what is revealed to be a vaguely man-shaped figure.

"Not bad," says Moody, pulling off an invisibility cloak. "But you need to stop falling back into verbal incantations when you're taken off guard."

"What's the problem? I blocked it, didn't I?" says Harry.

Moody grunts. "I was going easy on you. In a real attack you need every second you can get. If you were casting silently you could have gotten off three spells in the time it took you to say 'protego.'"

"Yeah, yeah," says Harry. "What are you doing here anyway? I thought the Ministry had you teaching full time since they tripled the auror intake."

"Those fucking morons," grumbles Moody. "You wouldn't believe some of the idiots they expect me to turn into aurors. And they want them ready in a year?" He scoffs.

"The whole Ministry is acting like they were hit by a mass confounding charm," says Harry. "But expanding the DMLE is the closest they've gotten to a smart decision since Fudge was elected so I wouldn't complain too much."

Moody gives him a dirty look, which is downright menacing considering his scars and eye. "Shut your damn trap. We'll see who's complaining when I'm done making sure you're keeping sharp."

"Really, Moody? Right now?" says Harry exasperatedly.

"I need to work out my frustration on someone who won't piss their pants every time I look at them," Moody grunts.

"Go find Kingsley. Or, you know, anyone else that can actually keep up with you for more than half a minute," Harry says.

"Everyone at the Ministry is busy. You know that," Moody says. "Come with me, boy. Let's see if you remember everything I taught you."

"Alright, fine. But you'd better teach me everything you know about tracking spells afterwards," Harry says. Then he turns to Su Li and Kevin and tells them, "I'll catch you guys later."

"Harry. We have class," Su Li reminds him, giving Moody a measuring look and quickly looking away again when he glares at her.

"It'll be fine; it's not like Binns'll notice." says Harry.

Su Li shrugs and says, "Fine. But don't expect me to cover for you if anyone else asks."

"Fair enough," says Harry, already heading back the other way with Moody. "See you at lunch, yeah?"

* * *

Hermione is in the library with Sally-Anne, Justin, Ernie, Lisa, Terry, Stephan, Sue Li and Padma. For what she has planned she would have preferred it if Harry could be here too but in a far from uncommon occurrence he is not to be found.

"So what's this about, Hermione?" Padma asks once the Gryffindor witch has finished putting up a silencing charm.

"Erm... well, I was thinking," Hermione stutters nervously, "The way I see it, we're all going to fail our Defence OWL. I mean, Umbridge is absolutely _rubbish_ at teaching, and she won't even let us cast the spells so we can't learn them on our own. So, um, I had the idea that maybe we should, you know, take matters into our own hands."

Ernie looks interested but a bit cautious too. "What do you mean, exactly?"

The other fifth years all turn to Hermione expectantly. She takes a deep breath. "Ah, I thought we could study it on our own? Not just the curriculum from this year, but from all the years so far since most of the Defence teachers we've had have been fairly useless. Well, Lupin was good but Quirrell and Lockhart didn't teach anything and Moody didn't follow the syllabus."

"That's all very well, but where would we do that?" Lisa says, "The spells we learn for Defence tend to be a bit difficult to practise without calling attention to yourself, and Umbridge is always poking her nose around for any signs of trouble."

"The hall in the East wing of the sixth floor," Hermione answers, having thought of that already. "It's already partially warded since that's where Harry trained for the Tournament last year and it's out of the way so no one will stumble on it accidently. Half of it is a lake but it still has plenty of room for what we want to do."

"If we're doing this, and I think it's a good idea, then we should spread the word to the rest of the year. Everyone's in the same boat here and it wouldn't be fair to keep it to ourselves," Sally-Anne says.

"Spoken like a true Hufflepuff," Ernie commends, beaming.

"Of course," Hermione agrees, "And we should think about including the other years as well. Spread the word around to anyone you think will be interested but be careful; Umbridge won't be happy if she hears of it."

* * *

"Have you guys seen the 'educational decree' Umbridge put up?" asks Dean as he joins Harry, Ron, Neville, Lavender and Hermione at breakfast.

"No student organisations," Harry confirms grimly. "According to Angelina that includes Quidditch teams."

"She disbanded Quidditch?" asks Ron, looking horrified. "Is that even legal?"

"Unfortunately it is completely legal," says Hermione. She purses her lips and the rest of the table takes that as their cue to tune out. "Magical law is so _backwards_. The whole system of government is just a sham so that purebloods can do whatever they want..."

"That... that _bitch_," says Ron as Hermione continues to rant.

"I can't wait until she kicks it," Lavender says viciously, stabbing a sausage with her fork and hacking it to pieces with her knife.

Everyone at the table stares at her.

"That's a bit harsh, Lav," Harry says carefully. "Especially for you. Is everything okay?"

"Have you _seen_ what she did to Dennis Creevey?" says Lavender angrily and ploughs on before anyone can answer. "She made him write lines with a blood quill for _hours_ because he stuck up for Dumbledore and called the Ministry incompetent."

"A blood quill?" Ron repeats incredulously.

"That can't be legal," says Neville. "Have you – has anyone told McGonagall?"

"McGonagall can't do anything; Umbridge has got the Ministry's full backing," says Lavender. "I'm just hoping she kicks it before too soon."

"Not _everyone_ with the jobs dies," Hermione says. "Look at Moody last year. He retired with no problems."

"Just wait for it," Lavender says darkly. "The last defence professor who didn't die ran off with a student. Her father hunted him down and I hear didn't go slowly _or_ easily."

"Wow, Lav, I never knew you had such a bloodthirsty streak," Dean says, looking mildly impressed.

"I hope you're not serious about wishing her dead," Hermione says primly, "That's absolutely horrible."

"I'm not _wishing_ her dead," says Lavender. "Her job is cursed; she's going to die anyway. I'm just hoping she goes out early like Lockhart rather than sticking out the entire year like Moody."

"That's an awful thing to say," Hermione insists.

Harry rolls his eyes. "Loosen up a bit, Hermione. You're the one who hasn't shut up about how bad she is since the start-of-term feast."

"Well yes." Hermione looks flustered for a moment and then collects herself as best she can. "I mean, she is a terrible teacher and I don't approve of the way the Ministry is interfering with the school but I'm not speculating about her death like it's... it's the weekend Quidditch match, or something."

Ron looks at Hermione slyly and grins in a manner reminiscent of his twin brothers. "Five sickles says she dies before the new year."

"Ten on a painful death," Lavender says immediately.

"Five on it being revenge from someone she's pissed off," says Dean.

Hermione purses her lips so hard they turn white, grabs her books and walks off in a huff.

* * *

"I don't want you going down Knockturn Alley anymore," Sirius says.

Harry squints at his godfather's face. It's a bit of a weird angle and the small mirror doesn't show much but it doesn't look like he's joking. "But I need to," Harry says. "And I've been hanging around there since before third year without any issues."

"That's not the problem. The number of Aurors stationed in Knockturn has increased by over a hundred percent."

"A hundred percent of zero is still zero," Harry mutters.

Sirius ignores him and continues, "And the Ministry's accusing everyone they find there of being dark wizard."

"Really? Why are they doing that?" Harry says, his curiosity overwhelming his resentment at being forbidden from doing as he likes. "Don't get me wrong, I know dark wizards are a dime a dozen down there but there's got to be at least ten of regular criminals for every one of them and it never bothered the Ministry enough to do anything about it before."

"Don't you ever pick up the paper? The elections in a year and a half and if Fudge doesn't turn things around he's going to go down faster than a sinking ship full of muggles. He wants to make it look like he's doing something."

"I thought Fudge was fairly popular," Harry says, frowning.

"He was. Past tense. But people think that if the Boy Who Lived can be kidnapped from his dorm in the middle of Hogwarts then Fudge must be doing something very wrong. That and ever since the Tournament international relations have gone down the drain."

Harry looks gobsmacked. "Are you saying _I'm_ the reason Fudge is doing this?"

"I wouldn't go that far," Sirius says. "But the Tournament was a big deal and having to cancel it before the last task reflected pretty badly on the Ministry. They couldn't even blame it on you because of Skeeter's articles. She had the public on your side before they had time to even consider it."

"Yeah," says Harry fondly. "I owe Creevey for that one. He might be an obsessive little stalker but he does a good job with a little direction. The Ministry couldn't have suffered too much from that mess though. Even I know Dumbledore copped it for everything that went wrong with the Tournament. Gotta say, it's really not his year. Seems like every decision he makes ends up blowing up in his face."

"Dumbledore taking the blame doesn't fix any of the problems the Ministry's facing," Sirius says distractedly, looking over at something Harry can't see. "So you'll stay away from Knockturn?"

"Sure," agrees Harry easily, with no intention of actually doing so.

"Great," says Sirius. "Look, I have to go now. It sounds like Podmore blew something up again."

* * *

Neville has no idea why he was chosen for prefect. Okay, that's not actually true, he knows exactly why. Between the fifth year Gryffindor boys Harry acts like there is no such things as rules and actively tries to convert others to his way of thinking, Seamus is half way to becoming an alcoholic already, Ron is such an opportunist he'd probably set bribe rates for breaking each rule, and Dean is a budding skirt chaser when he's not off getting high.

Still. That doesn't take away from the fact that no one except Harry ever takes him seriously, and even Harry would probably just clap him on the shoulder and say something like, "That's the way, Nev, show some confidence," if he tried to tell him what to do.

But just because Neville is far from exuberant about his new position, doesn't mean he's about to shirk his responsibilities. He always sticks to his guns after all, even if he has no faith in them. In truth, however, it's honest concern just as much as duty that brings him to pull Harry aside after Herbology a couple months into the school year.

"Got a moment Harry?" he asks, subtly rubbing sweaty palms on his pants. This is going to be awkward, he can just tell.

"Sure, Nev," Harry says, either ignoring his discomfort or unaware of it. "What's up?"

Neville's mind goes blank. "It's... um. I've noticed you haven't been around much this year," he hedges.

"Yeah, I've been really busy," Harry answers easily. Neville curses him silently for not getting his drift. This time Harry seems to notice his distress because he suddenly looks concerned and says, "Hey, you're not thinking that I'm trying to avoid you or something ridiculous like that, right?"

"N-No," Neville stutters, completely thrown off track. He hadn't even considered it. But what if that is the reason–? Neville shakes his head, snapping out of his momentary insecurity. "It's not that," he says firmly. "I– we– that is, everyone's been worried about you. There are all kinds of rumours that you're disturbed. From, you know, being used in a Dark ritual. Or depressed which is why you're so withdrawn this year. And, I mean, you seem pretty okay to me but you _have_ been different this year. It's not like you to disappear all the time; normally you're in the middle of everything. And anyone would be a bit messed up after that sort of thing, so I just thought, what if—"

Thankfully Harry decides to have mercy on him and cuts off his rambling. "Nev. You've got it all wrong," he says, looking a little bemused.

"Oh," Neville says eloquently. And then, "Well, what _have_ you been doing?"

"Too much," Harry grumbles with a wry smile. "I got two part time jobs. And, uh, I've been hawking Sirius' family heirlooms in Knockturn."

"You're been _what_?" Neville says, his voice going embarrassingly squeaky at the end.

Harry ignores him and hurriedly continues, "And me and Ron started up a business. Anything you want we'll get. For a fee. You can have the friends and family discount though. What'd'you reckon? It's been really popular, and most of it's even legal. Usually just first and second years wanting stuff from Honeydukes or Zonko's or something."

"What's with the sudden need to make money?" Neville asks, deciding to turn a blind eye when it comes to Harry. He can stick to his guns with everyone else. Although maybe he'll skip the rest of his dorm mates too; they're all a law unto themselves. "I thought your family was fairly well off."

Harry laughs guiltily and scratches the back of his head. "Well I had enough to get through school and have a bit left over but... I made this deal with Fred and George at the end of last year. They want to start up a business. Pranks and stuff. You know. Except they didn't have the money, so I gave them enough to get started which used up a big chunk of my vault and now I've got to earn it back before Sirius notices."

Neville stares at Harry incredulously.

"It's a long term investment," Harry says defensively.

Neville just shakes his head and changes the subject. "So where are you working?"

"I'm helping out at the local mechanic in Little Whining Wednesday afternoons and all day Saturday, and then on Friday and Saturday evenings I work at the Hog's Head," Harry says.

"... Is there anything you do that isn't dangerous or illegal?" Neville asks.

"I've been helping Hagrid train the new thestrals since he's come under a lot of pressure from Umbridge lately," Harry says. He grins slyly. "It's pretty tricky because I can't see them and they're really high spirited when they're so young but it keeps my reflexes sharp."

* * *

"What are you reading?" Hermione asks despite herself after fifteen minutes of trying and failing to concentrate on her potions homework. She's supposed to be focusing on OWLs this year but Harry's independent research topics are always so _interesting_ and, "That's not a library book."

Harry looks at Hermione in absolute disbelief. "Okay I know you spend a lot of time there and you're a bit of a genius and everything but you can't have memorised every book in Hogwarts' Library. You just _can't_."

Hermione huffs. It's obvious the book is ancient and while she's can't even begin to date it, the handwritten script tells her it's from far enough back that grimoires were one of a kind and heavily enchanted to prevent theft, duplication or unauthorised reading. But she's annoyed at being distracted, even if unintentionally, so she just gives Harry a superior look and snatches the book from his hands while he gapes at her.

"_Necromancy_!" Hermione squeaks, loud enough that Harry looks alarmed at quickly waves his wand, presumably erecting some sort of privacy wards. "Necromancy?" Hermione repeats faintly. "Why are you trying to learn necromancy?"

"Hey, it's not like that," Harry grumbles, snatching the book back. "Nearly-Headless Nick's been forcing 'swordplay' lessons on me ever since he found out I had Gryffindor's stupid stick but for that to have any success I need to figure out a way to enchant a weapon so we can spar."

Hermione's shock disappears, replaced with fascination. "Have you had any success? It shouldn't be too difficult, in theory at least. I know it used to be very common to enchant physical weapons to deal with spirits."

"Yeah but those would degrade, disperse or exorcise the spirit if you got them good enough which I don't want to do," Harry says. "It's turning out to be a lot harder than I thought; there isn't much on ghosts other than getting rid of them or binding them to a place. My most useful source is a guy who fell in love with a ghost and tried to make her tangible so they could advance their relationship."

"Ew," says Hermione, looking mildly revolted at the idea. Then she asks curiously, "Did he do it?"

Harry grins and shakes his head. "You're such a Ravenclaw. Unfortunately for him and for us, nothing worked. But our understanding of magic has advanced pretty far since then so I reckon I can improve on his experiments. The later ones in particular I have a lot of hope for. That's all NEWT level and beyond though so I have a lot of work to do before I can get anything done."

Hermione hesitates, but only for a moment. "Oh stuff it," she says, rolling up her potions essay. "Can I have a look at your notes?"

* * *

Harry stares very hard at the main staircase between the third and second floors. After a long minute he looks up at the roof, then down to the floor and after examining them each in turn his eyes slowly crawl up the walls back to the roof.

"I think I'm starting to understand why you get on so well with Luna, mate," Ron says, looking a bit embarrassed for him as a gaggle of fourth years walk past, giggling and whispering and pointing at Harry.

Harry doesn't immediately reply, too busy trying to pick his jaw up from the floor. "Did you know that the second floor is upside-down?" he asks slowly, astonishment clear in his tone, his gaze now roving around the blank stone wall in front of them as though it is the most fascinating thing he has seen in his life. He shakes his head without looking away. "I was told Ancient Runes would change my life but I have to say that until now I didn't believe it."

"They're not runes."

Ron whips around and Harry looks almost as surprised. He even deigns to stop examining the local architecture which Ron hasn't been able to get him to do with more than fifteen minute's effort. Though Ron would rather fail than resort to acting like Luna so he's not jealous at how easily the younger girl grabs his friend's attention. Not that he'd ever say as much in front of Harry.

"They're not?" Harry echoes with surprise.

"Of course not. The runic scripts anchor magic; they aren't active in any way. These," the blond fourth year says, waving her hand towards the wall which to Ron _still_ appears to be ordinary stone, "Are seals. They channel magic instead of just holding it in place."

Harry frowns. "I don't understand. What's the difference? And how do you tell? They look just like runes."

"It's..." Luna trails off and blinks, seeming rather lost for words. "Runes have an effect similar to holding a spell in place once it has been cast. If you use that analogy then seals constantly cast the spell. It's a subtle difference but it's very important. Daddy can explain it better."

"Why haven't I heard of anything like this before?" Harry asks, looking equally curious and confused. Ron is reminded of a cross between the most common expressions on Hermione and Goyle's faces, which makes him snigger.

"Because there's no such thing," Padma says, coming around the corner.

Luna stares at Padma in a disconcerting manner that would have Ron shifting uneasily within seconds, but the older Ravenclaw doesn't flinch. "Most people don't believe in Seals," Luna agrees. "It's a Lost Arte, you see. Hogwarts is the only surviving example and Rune Masters like to claim that it is just advanced runes, which is nonsense of course. There's was a very interesting article in the Quibbler about it a couple years ago. I can lend you the issue if you'd like."

"Yeah, that'd be great," Harry says.

Padma huffs and rolls her eyes. "I don't know why you bother reading all that rubbish," she says.

"If you're still holding a grudge about last year, fine, whatever, that's your choice. Even if it's pretty immature. I don't care. You can be a bitch to me if it makes you feel better, just don't take it out on my friends," Harry says.

"_You're_ calling _me_ immature?" Padma says in disbelief, "That's still better than being a two-faced liar. If you're not interested in a person don't take them out on a date, tell them you had a lot of fun but you don't have time for a girlfriend and then go suck faces with some foreign slut!"

"Ooh, she's really mad," Lavender says, popping up behind Ron. "I don't think she's even noticed the irony in going after that French girl for being foreign. That's a big slip up for a Ravenclaw."

Ron jumps. "Merlin! Where do all you girls keep popping up from?"

"Yeah, I snogged her a couple times when the pressure of the Tournament was getting to me, but that was it. I didn't think you deserved to be treated so casually," Harry says sounding a bit annoyed. "Excuse me for trying to look out for your feelings."

"Damn," Lavender whispers admiringly, "I didn't think anyone could defuse Padma's temper like that.

"Stop trying to justify yourself," Padma says scathingly. "Just own up to your mistakes like a man and admit you were a dickhead."

"You call that defusing?" Ron hisses incredulously.

"Wait for it..." Lavender says softly.

"I was a dickhead," Harry says frankly. "And I'm really sorry I upset you. Want me to take you to another movie to make up for it? Just as friends, of course."

Padma glares at him. "Only because the muggle world is really interesting," she sniffs.

"Smooth," Ron and Lavender mutter, impressed.

* * *

"Peruvian Atera Pods," Harry says smugly, holding up a hessian sack roughly the size of his head as Fred and George haul him out of the statue of the humpbacked witch. "The legendary base component of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. Come on – tell me I'm amazing."

"You're amazing," Fred says, sounding genuinely awed. "No seriously."

"I have no idea how you manage to get your hands on these sorts of things," says George.

"Restricted items are one thing," says Fred. "But this—"

"This is incredible," says George. "Those Peruvian wizards are so secretive we weren't even sure _they_ were real—"

"Let alone the rumoured main ingredient to their prized darkness powder," Fred says, seamlessly continuing on from his twin again. "And you went ahead and got a whole bag of the stuff."

George shakes his head admiringly. "Is there anything in this world that's out of your reach?"

Harry polishes his nails on his robes as they make their way back towards the Gryffindor Tower. "Let me think..." he says, "Ginny?"

"Ginny?" repeats Fred, his brow wrinkling.

"You're after our sister?" says George.

"You? As in chronically-afraid-of-commitments you?" says Fred, starting to sound a bit threatening.

"I'm not afraid of commitments," says Harry, sounding mildly affronted. "I've used up most of my money investing in your fledgling business which you've straight out told me has no guarantee of success, and even if it does all work out it'll be at least a few years before you can pay me back."

"For which we're eternally grateful of course," George says. "But we were talking more about the very short list of girls you've dated."

Fred raises an eyebrow at Harry and says, "Especially when compared with the not very short list of good-looking birds who practically throw themselves at you."

"Well... That's not what I meant anyway. I'm pretty sure I just saw Ginny go around that corner ahead of us," Harry says.

"Dear, sweet Ginny out after curfew?" George grins.

"This is excellent!" says Fred.

They hurry down the corridor and around the corner, and sure enough Ginny is there leaning against the wall partially supported by Megan Jones.

"George-o! Freddy!" Ginny giggles.

"You're drunk," says Harry in surprise.

"We went out to muggle London," Megan explains helpfully. "It's ridiculously easy to trick them into believing we're of age."

"Clubbing? Aren't you a bit young for that?" says Harry, one eyebrow raised sceptically.

"That's why we stuck with the muggle side," replies Megan. "There isn't much trouble you can get in that a confudus charm won't fix."

"That's true enough," Harry says, edging himself and Megan away from the three Weasleys, the elder two of whom appear to be about to launch into the Concerned Sibling routine. "Why don't I walk you back to your common room," he offers to Megan.

"It's fine; I'm barely tipsy," says Megan.

"Right. Just humour me then. I _really_ don't want to get in the middle of all that," says Harry, gesturing at the Weasleys.

Megan rolls her eyes. "Well since you're so concerned I can hardly say no," she says. "Okay, walk me back to my door, Mr Gallant."

Harry offers her his arm with a flourish. "Milady."

* * *

Luna finds Harry sitting on the edge of the Astronomy Tower looking up at the stars. Death is lazily curling around him like smoke in a crowded bar and though she is no less terrified of him than when they first met it is no longer enough to make her avoid him. He's nice to her which is rare enough that she treasures it perhaps more than she should. It isn't his fault that he's being stalked by danger after all.

And while she knows that's no reason to get caught up in the mayhem that spreads to everything he touches, he is far too interesting to stay away from. She doesn't understand why she feels like a fool every time she seeks him out.

"Hello Harry," Luna says. "I need your help."

His brilliant green gaze (sharp like a knife to the gut; unyielding enough to dash yourself to pieces against) falls away from the sky and zeros in on where her right hand tightly clutches her left. She wonders if he can hone in on blood in the same way as a shark, and then tells herself she's being unfair.

"What happened?" Harry asks.

Luna shrugs lightly. "Neville says you're good at healing. Can you fix it?"

"Let me see?" he says, reaching out for her hand.

Luna blinks, hesitates and meets him halfway with her pale hand, caked with dry blood. "Don't," she says, her voice catching in her throat, "Don't clean it."

Harry frowns, but doesn't question the odd request. That's another thing Luna has come to like about Harry; he doesn't pry. A flick of his wand and his brow wrinkles. "There's magic in it..." The corner of his mouth twists. "I don't have a lot of experience with this; I'm better with physical damage... give me a second..."

He mutters a few spells under his breath, eyes fixed intently on the fine cuts. Luna waits patiently. There are calluses on his palm which is unusual for a wizard and she wonders what they are from. The hand encased in his larger, stronger one feels strange and vulnerable. Like a raven crouched willingly before a griffin, Luna thinks with some amusement, a smile drifting across her face.

As a metaphor it doesn't work as well as it would have in previous years because these days there is a spectre of a raven that follows Harry around. Or maybe it was always there and Luna is only just now noticing it. Perhaps it is a sign that she will acquire a griffin for a companion in the near future to complete the backwards reflection, though she rather doubts it.

Finally Harry taps her hand with his wand one last time and looks up at her with a bright grin. Luna forces herself not to look away. "Got it," he says. "It was some sort of curse to make it scar. Good as new now."

Luna takes her hand back with no small measure of relief. She looks into his too-green eyes. In the darkness they nearly glow. "Thank you," she says and pretends she is not feeling as though the stones beneath her feet are falling away.

"No problem," Harry says amiably. His not-there raven caws for blood, its feathers puffed up angrily. "Uh, you know if you ever have a problem with anything you can come to me, right?"

"Yes," says Luna because she has no doubts of his veracity. But she is not willing to invite that sort of havoc into her life so she says nothing more.

* * *

Astoria Greengrass is in the dungeons attempting to brew the Draught of Living Death when Harry Potter slips in the door with a cheeky grin.

"Astoria Greengrass, right?" he says.

Astoria freezes. Brewing potions unsupervised is one of the more serious rules to break, especially since Snape is the one to decide the appropriate punishment. "What are you doing here?" she demands when she finds her tongue again.

"I hear you're not much of an Umbridge fan," Potter says, watching her closely.

It's slightly unnerving to have those bright green eyes trained on her but Astoria pretends she's not affected and carefully measures out a hundred and fifty ounces of powdered root of asphodel. She may as well continue the potion since it's too late to hide what she's doing. "What about it?" she asks.

Potter smiles, vicious and smug like the cat that got the canary and Astoria promptly decides never to get on his bad side. "She crossed a line so I'm declaring war on her," he says. "How would you like to help me take her down?"

"I don't like her," Astoria says slowly as she stirs her potion ten times counter clockwise, and then changes direction. "But it's not worth the risk of getting caught to try to 'take her down.' And what does that mean anyway?"

"Quite simply, I'm going to drive her out of Hogwarts," Potter replies. "I've got a few ideas to start with and there's almost no risk to them at all. If everything goes successfully she won't even know she's targeted."

"I'll hear you out," Astoria decides as if he hasn't got enough blackmail material to make her help him whether she wants to or not.

* * *

_So. It's been a while. That's for a couple reasons. I have a life and it's been pretty busy. I have a bit of a break right now but then it's only going to get busier. Also, I'm in two minds about this fic. On one hand there are quite a few bits that I look back at and think, 'Hey, that's really funny.' And with all the time I've put into it I want to see it through to the end. But there are also a lot of things I really dislike about it too. I'm not going to go into all that but suffice to say that if it wasn't for all the favourites and alerts and whatnot I probably would have happily forgotten all about it._


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